


[works that shall forever be in progress]

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, M/M, Work Up For Adoption
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-06 02:02:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1840249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some fics I just lose interest in. Sometimes I write myself into a corner. These are fics that I've started, but no longer care about. You can read them I guess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Camelot's Secret Playlist

**Author's Note:**

> **A word about these unfinished fics:** I won't be finishing them. If you get inspired to finish one or it sparks a new idea, that's perfectly fine. You can even copy what's here word for word and continue it somewhere else if you wish. Link back to this post or don't; I really don't care! I just had these sitting in my documents and thought it would be a waste for all these words to go unread.
> 
> Each chapter is a different unfinished fic, with different characters and warnings (hence why I chose not to use archive warnings), and all of them are unedited. Not every chapter is explicit, I just gave the entire post the highest rating to cover everything. I didn't list all the characters or tags because that would take up the rest of my life. The reason for abandoning and when it was originally written is in the summary before each chapter.
> 
> Comments asking me to finish any of these probably won't be responded to. Any other comments are welcome as usual though.
> 
> So here they are~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Why it's been abandoned:** I stopped caring.  
>  **Written:** 31 January 2013  
>  **Original idea:** Merlin is a DJ at a popular rave spot. Merlin likes dubstep but it's not his favourite genre, he prefers indie rock and emo. Arthur is the stiff collar kind of guy but seeing Merlin makes him want to take an adventure backstage.

Arthur frowned when he came upon what he hoped wasn’t the place. Gwaine had said it was a club in a warehouse, but what Arthur was seeing before him looked more like a rave than a club.

For one thing, there were people with glazed eyes and girls laughing like hyenas sprawled on the pavement, so pissed they were practically peeing themselves as they held their sides. For another, there were multicoloured lights pulsing through the glass windows, beating in time with the music.

The music. That’s what made it more like a rave than anything else. It was like a mix of 8bit, techno, and house, some weird hybrid that suggested aliens were trying to contact Earth rather than young adults dancing inside.

At least Arthur wasn’t overdressed. He had on a striped red and black collared shirt and khaki shorts. When he usually went out he wore a slim-fit black button down, the top two buttons undone, with dockers. He was glad at least one part of this night seemed to be alright.

 _< where are u?_ _i’m out front. > _he texted to Gwaine.

 _< be right out_ > was the quick reply.

A moment later Arthur picked his friend out from the others in the crowd, mostly because of his scruffy beard amongst the faces of shaven teenagers that had managed to sneak past security.

“Arthur, you made it!” He patted his friend heavily on the back as greeting. His breath reeked of spirits.

“I did. You didn’t say the place was so...” Arthur waved his hand around, searching for the right word.

“Amazing?” Gwaine supplied.

“Uh, right. Sure.”

“Wait ‘til you see the inside.”

Gwaine’s grin was so devilish, Arthur suddenly wasn’t sure he wanted to.

His fears seemed to be ill-placed though because the interior really was rather remarkable. Lights came from everywhere: the ground, the walls, the ceiling. The circular disks beneath their feet glowed strong, changing colour every so often but never blinking.

The blinking lights were on the walls. Every vertical surface featured some sort of flashing light, whether white or coloured. But the ceiling was the most impressive of all. The swivelling FX lights above were what Arthur was seeing from outside. They pulsed in time with the beat while simultaneously swinging through the haze of smoke that rose from the front of the stage.

The stage itself was far from the entrance, so Arthur could only barely make out the DJ. He could see the man was strikingly pale beneath the lights, and his cheekbones cut like razors across his face, highlighted even more so from his head being bent over a small laptop. His black fringe stuck to his forehead with sweat but still he bounced energetically on the balls of his feet to the beat of the music. One hand— _beautiful fingers_ , Arthur noticed briefly—held headphones to his ears.

Arthur was still squinting through the smoke and jumping crowd at the man onstage when Gwaine’s heavy hand returned to Arthur’s shoulder. “You, my friend, look entirely too sober.” He tapped Arthur’s cheek with a single digit. “Open up, time to take your medicine.”

“What?” Arthur opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out anyway.

Which is how Arthur ended up taking ecstasy for the first time.

It didn’t affect him immediately, but his decision making had already been compromised by the attractive DJ onstage. He didn’t hesitate to follow Gwaine to the bar for a few shots, hoping a bit of liquid courage would help him work up the nerve to approach.

After that, the night was a blur of colours, smells, and sweaty bodies pressed against him. He vaguely remembered snogging one girl whose named started with an E—Elise, or Emilia, or Elena—before she had to leave suddenly with one of her friends. There was another pair of lips and a rather adventurous tongue he remembered, but couldn’t recall a name or face. And then, near about four in the morning, there was the DJ.

Arthur had somehow made his way up to the front. Gwaine had abandoned him long ago for some reason he couldn’t recall—actually he’d left around the same time the E-girl had now that he thought about it—but had left with a parting gift: cab fare for a ride home.

Now, standing in front of the stage, Arthur just swayed to the music with his eyes closed. He let the crowd jostle him around as they pleased, but he planted his feet firmly enough that he wasn’t knocked off-balance. This close, Arthur could feel the bass beat through his whole body. He could feel the cool air from the industrial fans above the stage whose job it was to make sure the DJ was comfortable.

Arthur snapped his eyes open and saw the shuffling feet of the DJ behind the booth. He let his gaze travel upward slowly. The man’s shirt was sticking to his torso with sweat, and Arthur could see clearly defined pectorals and biceps. A little higher and he saw a lovely smiling mouth; definitely the best lips he’d ever laid eyes on. Even higher and he met the DJ’s eyes, a pair of intense sapphires that sparkled with mirth as Arthur finally looked at him.

The DJ’s smile broadened and when he winked Arthur was surprised he didn’t faint from all the blood suddenly rushing to his dick. He flashed a confident smile back and licked his lips for good measure.

The man suddenly waved Arthur onstage. Arthur’s stomach fluttered and he hoisted himself over the ledge, careful of the large speakers.

The DJ pulled off one of the headphones to reveal a large rounded ear just as pale as the rest of him. “What’s your name?” he shouted above the music.

Arthur leaned forward to reply back. “Arthur.”

“Tell me, Arthur, have you been behaving yourself tonight?” When Arthur laughed and gave him a confused look, he continued. “Been doing exciting, exhilarating, and other things that start with E?”

Arthur’s mouth formed an “o” of understanding. “Maybe,” he yelled back in the man’s ear.

“Excellent. You’re doing it right then, mate.” He diverted his attention briefly to address the music, which flowed seamlessly into another mix. “Listen, Arthur. You look like you’ve got a really impressive cock. And I’d really like to try it out sometime.”

“Yeah?” Arthur grinned and the DJ smiled back at him just as wickedly.

“Yeah, definitely. In fact, my set is just about over if you want to wait in the loo for me.”

“And who will I be waiting for?”

The bloke jerked a thumb over his shoulder and Arthur looked at the glowing text behind the booth, the name _Emrys_ in bright pulsating lights.

“Starts with an E,” Emrys said. “Should be easy to remember.” He winked again and Arthur wanted to devour him right then and there.

“Can’t wait to add it to my list of E things,” Arthur replied.

Even in his euphoric high, Arthur thought that sounded a bit cheesy, but Emrys’s laugh sounded more pleased than amused. “See you in a few minutes, then.” He put his headphones back on his ear and returned to the switchboard beside his laptop, smiling at Arthur even as Arthur disappeared back into the crowd.


	2. The Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Why it's been abandoned:** I forgot where the plot was going. Also I stopped caring.  
>  **Written:** 14 April 2013 - 28 April 2013

He’d grown up in this jungle. His feet had hardened and his skin had toughened itself so that even if he didn’t know to avoid the sharp thorns and undergrowth, it wouldn’t hurt much. Running through the thick vegetation came naturally to inhabitants of Avalon.

Not much further ahead was the cove where they’d taken the prisoner. As his feet left the rough dirt and began treading through the warm sand, it became harder to run. His heart worked so hard to keep oxygen flowing he felt it throb in every part of his body. His veins pulsed with blood, excitement, and magic.

As he neared the grey rock of the cove, heads turned in his direction and people began to call out his name. “Over here, Merlin!” they waved. He pushed himself on until he reached the opening and arms sucked him into the circle.

The only light came from the torches a few people carried. The cove was small near the front, but the stream of water pouring in from the ocean, if followed all the way back, opened up into a large cavern. Strewn about were various items left behind by the outsiders, strange things that none of them had ever seen before. Markings on the walls indicated the passing of days that these odd visitors had been here.

Now there was only one. He’d been spotted not far from the beach gathering firewood by one of the village boys. It wasn’t his fair skin or unfamiliar dress that marked him as an outsider; it was his hair.

Everyone on the island had the same basic features: skin ranging from tones of alabaster to nearly oyster pink, deep brown or raven black hair, and eyes as green as emeralds or blue as the clear ocean. Then, of course, there was Merlin whose storm-cloud eyes changed to gold whenever he performed magic.

But nobody had ever seen hair the colour of the sun. They had, in fact, never seen anyone land on their shores before. Their island was hidden in mist and not on any map known to man (though none of them knew this). This strange man was a mystery.

The man had injured Tristan with some sort of fire weapon. It had a handle and a lever that, when pulled, sparked a flame and a metal ball flew out. The loud sound it made had echoed in the confined space. It was lucky that it had only grazed Tristan’s shoulder, but still the wound was bleeding. The man himself was bound with rope and writhed on the stony ground. Merlin had to attend to Tristan before he could get a proper look though.

Tristan met Merlin’s eyes gratefully and shuffled through the crowd to him. He held out his arm and Merlin placed his palm on the open wound before muttering a few words. When he pulled his hand away, Tristan’s skin was unblemished, and the young man nodded his appreciation.

Now Merlin could push his way through to the front of the circle. The stranger’s hands were tied behind his back and his ankles were tightly secured as well. The fire weapon was now in the hands of the village leader, Cornelius, who watched raptly as the sun-crowned man struggled.

“Untie me, you bloody savages!” The man was screaming. Merlin was surprised that he spoke the same language. “I swear, when I get free I’m going to kill every single one of you bastards. Starting with you!” He spat in the direction of Will, the one who had attacked him from behind and knocked the fire weapon from his hands, thus enabling everyone else to pounce.

Will kicked the man in his stomach and he promptly curled in on himself in pain. “Stop!” Merlin screamed. Everyone turned to look at him, the sun-haired man included.

“You speak English?” The man asked in shock. “You,” he tried to wriggle towards Merlin, who stepped back in disgust. “Talk some sense into them. Please.”

Will pulled his leg back to kick again but Merlin rushed forward and stopped him. “Wait,” he said. “Just wait.”

“Well, why should I?” Will demanded, angered at his friend’s pity for the outsider. “He hurt Tristan. Tristan didn’t do nothing.”

Cornelius agreed. “Why should we show this man mercy when he has injured one of our own?” His voice echoed loud in the confined space and boomed with authority. For a moment, Merlin forgot entirely why he’d screamed for Will to stop in the first place.

“He was going to kill me!” The outsider shouted. “It was self-defence, I—” Will delivered another kick to the man, this time to the face, and his mouth began to bleed.

“Will!” Merlin scolded.

Will shrugged. “Accident.”

Merlin glowered at his friend, then turned to face their leader. “With respect, I think it is wrong to kill this man. He clearly misunderstood Tristan’s intentions. And no one was fatally wounded. Perhaps we ought to bring him back to the village and question him there.”

Cornelius considered a moment then reached a final decision. “Fine. But he is under your care. If he causes any more trouble it is you who will face the consequences.”

He signalled for everyone to exit and one by one, they filed out. Somebody handed Merlin a torch and soon it was only he and the man left in the cove.

“Thank you,” the man said as Merlin untied the rope around his ankles. “What is your name?”

“Merlin.”

“I’m Arthur.”

Merlin put his hands under Arthur’s arms and pulled him to his feet. “Come on then, Arthur. We’ve got a ways to go.” He grabbed an elbow and started shuffling forward.

Arthur was silent until they entered the jungle and the eyes of the villagers seemed to peer back at them from behind every tree. “What’s the name of this place?” he asked.

“Avalon.”

“And the thin, intimidating bloke? What’s his name?”

“Cornelius.”

“What about the fellow that kept kicking me? What’d you say his name was?”

“Will you stop with the endless questions?” Merlin pleaded in exasperation.

“Ah, yes, Will. That was it. I don’t much fancy that one.”

At that moment, Arthur tripped on a root and landed painfully on his knee since his hands were still tied behind his back. The sound of laughter danced on the wind and Arthur cursed under his breath at the savages no doubt mocking him from afar.

Merlin helped him to his feet. “I think the earth is telling you to shut up and watch where you’re going.” Arthur just grunted and kept forward.

When they reached the village, a crowd of children ran up and surrounded them. A few of the taller ones tried to reach up and tug on Arthur’s hair but Merlin shooed them away. Arthur looked around him in wonder at the sprawling village, marvelled at the shoddy wood bridges that spanned chasms more than a hundred yards long. The men wore trousers that cut off at either the knee or just above the ankles and the women wore the same bottom garments with a half-shirt that displayed their naval in addition. Girls that hadn’t started growing yet dressed the same as boys and were only identifiable by their long hair. Older women wore long dresses.

“No wonder they were all so curious,” Arthur mused upon seeing all dark-haired denizens.

Merlin walked him to the village centre, where Cornelius waited. “I see the outsider hasn’t given you much trouble,” Cornelius said in greeting. “Good. I’ll take it from here.” He yanked Arthur by the elbow and sent the man tumbling to the dirt.

“I thought you said he was in my care!” Merlin protested.

“To escort, yes. Now he will be put away where we can question him safely. You didn’t really think I was going to endanger the entire village because of a soft-hearted young man, did you?” Merlin’s mouth flapped like a fish. “Come along, outsider.”

Merlin longed to argue, though why he felt so he couldn’t say. Cornelius pulled Arthur by the rope on his hands and Arthur kept glancing back over his shoulder at Merlin pleadingly. Merlin pressed his lips in a thin line and went home to a night of fitful sleep.

  


His dreams had been of sun-bleached hair and red pouty lips, rippling muscles and strong firm grips, heavy breathing and low moaning.

He woke up with a jolt, sweating and aroused. He fell back onto his pillow with a sigh and tried not to imagine intense blue eyes staring up at him as he touched himself. It wouldn’t do to develop any feelings for the outsider, not when he was already weird enough on his own.

It wasn’t that Merlin was disliked; he was a respected member of the village, everyone looked up to him. But it wasn’t without an underlying sense of worry. Merlin was powerful, and if he so chose, he could destroy the village with a flick of his wrist. He’d started a number of fires as a boy that had nearly done so, and he suspected the village elders still hadn’t forgiven him for that.

He’d lived twenty-five summers, twenty-five long years, and he’d been the village’s healer since he’d learned restorative spells at fifteen. He had friends—Will, Freya, and Morgana—and an aging mother that lived across the river. Maybe he was a little avant garde in his ways, but he was a still an important member of society.

Merlin had lain with both Freya and Morgana—well, tried to. As his closest friends, it was natural for one of them be his wife, but he didn’t think of them that way and had difficulty getting aroused around them. They forgave him though and remained friends throughout the ordeal. Will mated with Freya and Morgana was still unwed. Merlin’s mother hoped there was still a chance in that regard but supported Merlin no matter the case.

The truth was that if Merlin could bed any of his friends it would be Will, though he’d never told him. All three of his friends knew of his preferences, had even tried to pair him up with a couple other young men who suffered the same, but Merlin never hit it off with any of them and now he seemed destined to live alone. Until Arthur came and heated up his dreams, that is.

It was already frowned upon—though not expressly forbidden—to “stifle procreation,” but to do so with an allegedly dangerous outsider? No, no, no. Merlin thought of Tristan and the strong arms he’d healed hours before as he brought himself morning relief. He thought of kind smiles and gentle touches and hitches in breathing. And then maybe at the last second he thought of Will, dripping wet after they’d gone swimming, because old habits die hard.

It was no surprise to find the village in an uproar when he left his hut. The prisoner had been moved to the caves and secured there until it was decided what to do with him.

“Alright, alright, settle down,” Cornelius calmed the crowd as Merlin approached. “I will be taking the council with me to question him in a few minutes and more information will be known when we return. We’ve completely disarmed him and he is securely fastened.”

“Bind him with magic!” A voice cried out. A cheer rose up as people agreed.

Cornelius glanced at Merlin before saying, “I don’t think that will be necessary. He is one man against many. There is hardly much to fear from him.” Merlin nodded his agreement, silently glad he wouldn’t have to face the man after last night’s dreams.

The council consisted of Lancelot, voice of the warriors; Morgana, voice of the people; Geoffrey, voice of the Elders; and of course, Cornelius himself. They four went down to the caves and the rest of the village was forced to wait anxiously for their return.

Merlin wasn’t one for sitting idly by, especially when there was much to be done. He went back home to take inventory of his herbal supplies and around midday he would visit Freya to see how she was feeling. She was five full moons pregnant and progressing nicely, but Merlin wanted to check on her anyways and he could use the company.

He wasn’t even half finished counting his supply of hollyhock when Morgana shuffled in. “Morgana? Aren’t you supposed to be down at the caves with Arthur?” he asked, setting down his basket.

“Is that his name then?” she mused. “He refused to tell us. He’s been asking for you. Won’t talk otherwise.”

Merlin frowned. “Asking for me? But I’m not...what’s he want with me?”

“Guess you’ll have to find out for yourself. Cornelius is none too pleased though.” She picked a stray strand out of her green half-shirt. “He’s angry enough that you defied him openly yesterday evening and wanted to beat the information out of the man. But I told him the people wouldn’t like it if the prisoner died from such brutality. Which is true enough.”

Merlin sighed in exasperation. “I was busy.” He brushed aside the curtain of threaded leaves and left his hut, Morgana in tow. “If a child dies because I don’t know how much hollyhock I have, it’s Arthur’s fault. I hope he knows that.”

Morgana rolled her eyes. “Always so dramatic, Merlin.”

“Realistic, you mean.”

The path to the caves was a dangerous one. It declined sharply and zig-zagged up and down the cliff face so that one misstep could result in a fatal trip into the treacherous river below. The rope bridge swayed fifty yards above the cave entrance.

Merlin was always a bit afraid of heights and hated having to make rare trips down here. But even criminals needed healing sometimes, and though they may have stolen a mango or raped a young girl, they all ended up locked down here in the dark. Morgana, for all her teasing, was a good friend, and Merlin knew if he took a wrong step her hands would be there to catch him.

They passed the tied prisoners until they came to the very end where Arthur was being kept. He’d been stripped to just a pair of shorts and Merlin’s breath caught in his throat when he saw Arthur’s bare flesh for the first time. The initial flare of arousal was gone, however, the minute he took in the bruises all over his body and the cuts on his face.

“What have you done?” Merlin said, appalled.

“He wasn’t cooperating,” Cornelius explained. “We had to use force.”

Arthur spit on the ground in front of their leader and earned himself another knee in the face. He slumped bonelessly, arms hanging from his restraints in the walls.

“Will you talk now, yellow-hair?” Lancelot asked. “We’ve fulfilled your request and brought Merlin here. We don’t want to hurt you.”

Arthur didn’t speak. His chest heaved and it was obvious each breath was an effort. Merlin wanted to go forward and check for broken ribs but held his place respectfully. After a while Lancelot looked up to Cornelius again, and the leader nodded. Lancelot was in the middle of pulling back for a punch, when Arthur began stuttering.

“P-p-pirates...Traveling f-from England when we saw pirates...tried to outrun them...sailed into the fog...crashed...here.” He had to pause every so often to wheeze for breath and Merlin felt as though Arthur’s pain were his own. He swallowed back tears and clenched his fists.

“Where’s England?” Morgana asked what was on everyone’s mind.

“Away.”

“Where’s your ship?” Lancelot inquired.

“Sunk. We ran straight into...the cliffs...Took shelter in...the cave I was followed to.”

“The rest of them died,” Merlin pieced together. “The markings on the wall of the cove. Remember? He must have been here at least two moons. The wilddeoren probably got them if starvation didn’t.”

Arthur nodded weakly. “Giant, flesh-eating rats.”

“So he’s here alone, far from any of his friends or family, without any hope of rescue, and we’re here nearly beating him to death. No wonder he called us savages,” Morgana said boldly.

“He _did_ try to kill Tristan,” Lance pointed out.

“Maybe Tristan caught him by surprise,” Merlin offered.

Arthur raised his eyes gratefully to Merlin and nodded, too weak for any more words. They’d really done a number on him, it seemed. Arthur had been fine yesterday.

“We’ve gathered what we came for,” Cornelius announced. “Let’s go to the council room to make a decision. Merlin, attend to the prisoner.” And they left.

Again, Merlin was alone with Arthur. As soon as their steps died away, he bent down to feel for broken bones. As Merlin had suspected, Arthur had a broken rib. Arthur winced at the sharp stab of pain.

Once done gauging the effects, Merlin rose and turned to leave. “I’ll be right back,” he said over his shoulder.

He returned with his medicine bag. He wiped Arthur’s wounds clean and applied bandages where needed. To the purpling bruises he put on a soothing salve and gave the body tissue a magical nudge with a few words. He wrapped Arthur’s chest in a bind and said a quick restorative spell for the rib too.

“There.” He sat back and surveyed his work. “That’s all I can do for now. It would be a lot better if you could lie back, but I don’t suppose they’ll let you do that any time soon. The worst of your injuries is a broken rib and that should be better in a few days.”

As Merlin stood to leave, Arthur spoke weakly again. “Thank you. It seems you’re my...only friend here.”

Merlin swallowed. “I wouldn’t exactly call us friends. I’m just the least antagonising.” Arthur’s breathy chuckle made Merlin smile, and he immediately covered it with a frown. “Right, well. I’m off then. Try not to provoke them anymore.”

In his haste to leave the cave, Merlin forgot to ask why Arthur refused to speak without him present.

  


“Then what do you propose we do with him?” Cornelius asked the council. He turned first to Geoffrey, who had been silent throughout.

“I say we make him a slave and if he displays good behaviour, we consider adopting him as one of our own.”

Morgana nodded. “I agree. What he did to Tristan may have been an accident, but he should still have to earn our trust.”

“And if he decides to take revenge?” Lance countered. “What if he goes slinking around at night slitting throats and raping women for what we’ve done to him today? I certainly wouldn’t let myself forget the events of today after a few moons. We have to take into account what he might do with that trust once he’s earned it.”

Cornelius nodded at the point but said nothing, instead allowed the debate to continue without his input for now.

“The same could be said of anyone,” Morgana said. “What’s to stop anyone from sneaking about at night doing that, and for less of a reason than revenge? There are people in the caves now for those very crimes. And if that does happen, it will only be the fault of _your_ men for not doing their job on the patrols.”

Lance grudgingly agreed. This was why Morgana was the voice of the people.

“Then it’s decided,” Cornelius concluded. “The outsider will be a slave for the course of twelve moons, at the end of which, if he has been deemed satisfactory, he may gain normal rights. Are we all in agreement?” All nodded. “Excellent. Now, whose slave should he be?”

Morgana grinned. “I have an idea.”

  
  


“No.”

“But Merlin—”

“No. I don’t need a slave, hell, I don’t even need an assistant. No means no, Morgana!”

“Don’t make me say it, Merlin,” Morgana threatened.

“Say what? There’s nothing to say!” Merlin threw his arms up in defeat.

“You may not need an assistant, but you know you need _someone_ , Merlin. Someone...intimate.”

Merlin put his face in his hands. “Get out. Getoutgetoutgetoutgetoutgetout—”

Morgana took hold of Merlin’s wrists. “Listen to me, you stubborn idiot! It’s you or someone else on the council. And I know you don’t want Arthur treated badly. The only way to guarantee his safety is if he’s with you.”

“This is low, Morgana, even for you.”

She smiled. “Does that mean you’ll do it?”

“Yes,” Merlin grumbled. “But don’t expect me to be happy about it. I’m sure this will be the worst year of my life.”

Morgana giggled. “Your cock will thank me later.”

“Get out!”

  


Merlin led him to his house. Arthur had stayed in the caves a total of thirteen days to allow his injuries to heal and had been released once his body was back in full working order. Merlin followed Arthur’s puzzled gaze to the tri-sided symbol above his door. “It’s a triskele,” he explained.

“What is it? Nobody else has it in front of their hut.”

“Guess I’m just special that way,” Merlin replied sarcastically. “In.”

Arthur walked through the curtain of leaves that served as a door and considered his new surroundings. Compared to some of the other huts in the village it was larger. It was a home in two parts: a front room, and a back room. The front room had three small beds and shelves upon shelves of vials, cups, bandages, and other items of druidic fashion. There were two tables, one for Merlin’s work and one for dining. The back room had a single, larger bed and a wardrobe. Or at least the closest thing the islanders had to a wardrobe, which was a chest containing about four different pairs of trousers if one were male.

“You’re their doctor,” Arthur realised upon closer inspection of the front room.

“That’s one word for it.”

“I suppose I should have figured that out earlier when you ‘attended’ to me.”

“You were a bit dazed. Don’t touch that!”

Arthur jerked his arm back from the slimy paste in the mortar and pestle at Merlin’s tone. “Sorry.”

Merlin sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Alright. Look.” He pointed to one of the beds in the front room. “This is where you’ll sleep. If someone needs it, you’ll sleep on the ground. If I tell you to do something, do it. If I tell you not to do something—”

“Don’t do it.”

“Precisely. Now, don’t bother me.” Merlin waved him off and took up his seat at his table. He returned to beating the paste with the pestle.

Arthur stood around aimlessly for a few moments before sitting down on one of the beds. He figured it didn’t matter which one he slept in. He watched Merlin grind more and more herbs into the paste until it was a dirty yellow colour. Then Merlin stood and fetched a bottle to put it into.

Merlin worked until he heard Arthur’s stomach growl and realised he was a bit peckish himself. He dreaded having to go into town with Arthur following him around, but he couldn’t leave him alone either. He gestured for Arthur to get up and they left.

Merlin lived right in the village centre, making it not only easier for him to get things he needed but for the sick to find him as well. Not fifty yards west was the market where he could get chicken and boar. Arthur was interested in the island’s currency—small transparent blue crystals that originated in some caves scattered about the island—but Merlin didn’t need to pay a thing because of his status and contribution to the village. Human lives were priceless.

As predicted, the villagers eyed Arthur with open dislike. Some even accidentally on purpose bumped into him in the market and made his rib throb in pain. Arthur just gritted his teeth and dealt with it though. He was well aware of his position.

Merlin got a few mangoes and Arthur ate one of them while Merlin cooked boar ribs over the fire pit behind his house. Merlin was an excellent cook, and his meals were always sought after because he added herbs and spices that ensured health and longevity. He couldn’t take all the credit though. Most of what he knew he learned from his mother.

Arthur liked the boar ribs more than he thought he would and thanked Merlin graciously when offered another. Merlin didn’t need to eat nearly as much as Arthur did, and he had a smaller stomach anyways. He didn’t mind sharing with Arthur. In fact, he rather liked the company around the house.

After eating, Merlin went—with Arthur in tow, of course—to visit Freya. Will was out fishing, otherwise Merlin would have waited a lunar cycle, maybe two, before letting Arthur anywhere near his friend.

“Merlin!” Freya greeted him. “I had a feeling you would come today.”

“Hello, Freya.” Merlin smiled. “How are you feeling? Everything alright?”

She rubbed her stomach. “Everything’s great, Merlin. I think it’s going to be a boy.”

“Oh yeah? You decided on a name yet, or is Will demanding a junior?”

Freya laughed musically. “Yes. He wants a William the second. I couldn’t get him to budge. The next one is mine to name though.”

“That sounds just like him. Speaking of him, has he got any spare trousers?”

Freya started at the sudden topic shift. “A couple, why? Oh. For the...oh.”

“Er, yeah. It wouldn’t do for him to be walking around in the same clothes the cave prisoners wear. They might think he’s escaped,” Merlin joked.

“I doubt they’d mistake him, with that hair. But I’ll find some that will fit.” Freya stepped inside her house and went to get Arthur some new clothes. Arthur shifted uncomfortably but didn’t speak, as he knew he wasn’t supposed to.

Freya quickly returned with two pairs of breeches, one grey and one black. They looked about right at the waist but would probably be a bit short length-wise. They would have to do for now.

“Thanks so much, Frey. I’ll see you tomorrow night to eat whatever Will doesn’t sell at the market, yeah? We’ll invite Morgana.”

“Sure thing, Merlin.”

“And send Will or somebody right away if you start to feel strange. I’ll bring herbs tomorrow that are good for the baby.”

“Merlin, you worry too much. Just come and have a good time and stop working for at least sixty seconds.” She giggled.

Merlin rolled his eyes. “I don’t work _all_ the time. And _some_ one has to worry about the health of this village, otherwise we’ll all die.”

“Morgana is right, you are far too dramatic, Merlin. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

They had to walk back across a rope bridge to go home and even though Merlin’s body was hardened for the jungle, it still wasn’t used to the shaky structure. It didn’t help that his fear of heights kicked in. He hated crossing the bridges, which the partly the reason why he didn’t visit Freya or his mother or anyone else across the river more often.

It wasn’t that Merlin was afraid the bridge would break. The knots were tied securely and held together with some of his own magic. The wooden boards were strong and reinforced with animal bones. It was the swinging that Merlin hated. He felt at any moment he could go tumbling over the side. With the added weight of Arthur following loyally behind him, he clutched the rope sides even tighter.

Merlin always exhaled when he reached the other side. It was a soft exhale, not an overly loud and noticeable huff. But Arthur, who had been watching Merlin like a cat would a mouse, was quickly becoming privy to Merlin’s every mannerism.

“You’re frightened,” Arthur stated after Merlin’s released breath.

Merlin jumped at the sound of Arthur’s voice. He hadn’t forgotten he was there, he just hadn’t been expecting him to talk.

“No,” he said obstinately. “I’m perfectly fine, thanks.”

“Hmm.”

Merlin didn’t rise to challenge Arthur’s “Hmm” as the man no doubt wanted him to. Instead he remained silent until Arthur broke the silence again.

“Did you want me to be your slave?”

The question took Merlin by surprise. “No. Morgana offered and I refused. At first.”

“At first? What changed your mind?”

Merlin rubbed the back of his neck and wouldn’t meet Arthur’s stare. “I knew if you were anyone else’s they’d beat you. I didn’t go to the trouble of saving you back in the cove just for you to be roughed up on a daily basis.”

“Hmm.”

This time Arthur said no more.

  


Having the most attractive man in the village sleeping in the next room was not helping Merlin’s dreams. The next morning he woke up hard and sweating again. He listened to make sure Arthur was breathing deeply before daring to lower his hand.

The relief was instantaneous. Merlin sighed and stroked himself lazily as the first rays of sunlight came in through the window. He felt guilty thinking of Will since he’d seen Freya only yesterday, and Tristan just wasn’t doing it for him today. He reluctantly let himself imagine Arthur, dripping with sweat and pounding into him over his worktable, materials scattered on the floor. He imagined how good it would feel, the emptiness being filled at last by something other than experimental magic, how hot and thick it would be inside him. Maybe Arthur would whisper dirty things in his ear, kiss the back of his neck, and squeeze the base of his cock, telling him not to come, not to dare come until he was finished fucking him—

“Arthur.”

Merlin bit his lip. Had that slipped? He sped up his tempo and closed his eyes, going back to his fantasy. He hadn’t said it that loud after all. And it had sounded so right, spilling from his lips like that. Maybe if he had something to fill his mouth, something long and thick and hard—

“Arthur,” he whispered again.

Stupid island. Stupid sodding Avalon with no men to Merlin’s taste, no one to fill the void and penetrate so deep inside him like he desperately needed. Merlin put two fingers into his mouth and sucked hard on them, but they were nothing close to what he wanted. He imagined they were Arthur’s fingers, Arthur’s thick digits teasing his mouth as Arthur’s cock pumped into him and shook his worktable from the force of it. If Merlin could just...if he just used a bit of magic to nudge ever so slightly at his hole...

“Fuck, Arthur, _yes_.”

Merlin’s come coated his fingers and his body trembled as his back arched. He was never going to look at his worktable the same again. Hell, he doubted he’d ever be able to look Arthur in the face.

Merlin didn’t move to clean himself right away. He caught his breath and let the warm sunlight wash over his face. When he finally opened his eyes, Arthur was standing at the end of his bed staring down at him.

“A-Arthur!” Merlin jumped and was never happier for a blanket in his life. The evidence of his orgasm was thankfully hidden. “What is it? Why are you back here?” He feigned anger to cover his embarrassment.

Merlin didn’t miss the bob of Arthur’s Adam’s apple as he swallowed. “I thought I heard you calling me.” A twitch of his lips made it clear Arthur was trying not to smile and Merlin knew he’d been heard.

But he’d be damned if he was going to admit that he’d just got himself off to the image of Arthur and that it was the best wank of his life. “I haven’t said a word. I was sleeping.”

“Alright.” Arthur shrugged. “If you say so.”

“I do. Now, why don’t you cut up a mango for breakfast? I’ll be out shortly.”

Arthur let loose his full smile and it momentarily took Merlin’s breath away. “Right away, _master_ ,” Arthur said sarcastically and returned to the front room.

Merlin jumped out of bed and changed his trousers. He was down to his last pair and would have to do the washing today. He wasn’t about to let Arthur anywhere near his soiled garments and he had a feeling the man didn’t know a thing about washing anyways.

When he walked into the room Arthur was sitting down at the dining table with half a mango in front of him. Mango juice dribbled down his chin and he was licking his fingers clean. The smell rushed into Merlin’s nose and he knew every time he smelled mango from then on he would think of Arthur’s tongue darting out to lick his fingers.

He took a deep breath and sat down across from Arthur. There was a plate set already for him and he dug in before he could meet Arthur’s gaze. He tried to eat as cleanly as possible but even his trained manners couldn’t overcome the mess that was mango. He was forced to either wipe his hands on his trousers or suck the juice from them.

Merlin made the mistake of raising his gaze when he stuck his fingers in his mouth and saw the flicker of Arthur’s eyes to his lips. For a moment he hoped Arthur was thinking the same thing but quickly lowered his eyes before he could hope too much. They remained silent for the remainder of their breakfast.

“We’ll be collecting herbs today,” Merlin announced when he handed his plate to Arthur to put in the wash basin. “Well, I will be. You’ll be there to hold the basket.”

“Don’t trust me to know which ones to pick up?”

“Not at all. I hardly trust you to live here, let alone have enough knowledge not to poison the villagers.”

Merlin stood and as Arthur walked toward him he noticed he was limping. Arthur’s feet were cut and bloody.

“My feet aren’t used to this environment,” Arthur explained. “And they took my boots.”

“Do you want—”

“I’ll be fine.”

Merlin wanted to argue. He knew how painful it was to hold up all one’s body weight on bleeding feet. But Arthur’s tone had indicated he was perfectly content to suffer, and it was true his feet wouldn’t adapt any other way.

“If you’re sure.” Merlin shrugged.

“I am. Nice of you to worry, though.”

Merlin looked up and found Arthur smirking. “Don’t flatter yourself. I just don’t want you lagging behind.” He turned briskly. “Come on.” He ignored Arthur’s low chuckle behind him.

Arthur did lag behind when they entered the jungle. It was more that he didn’t know how to navigate through the thick vegetation more than anything. Low-hanging branches got in his way and he could never decide where to step.

“Isn’t there a path we could follow?” Arthur asked after a while.

“There is, but none of what I need is so readily available. Hence why I need it,” Merlin snapped back. Arthur huffed and continued on with a furrowed brow.

When they did stop, Arthur was grateful. Merlin waved him forward as he knelt next to a bush and he expertly picked what he needed. Arthur was ready with the basket like a good slave. This deep in the jungle it was easier to find herbs that hadn't already been collected. Arthur was a surprisingly quick learner, and with his help Merlin was able to gather enough to replenish his supply.

They went home and Merlin stored what they'd collected. His next task was to teach Arthur how to wash clothing.

"Have you tried on the trousers I got from Freya?" Merlin asked.

"No."

"Try them now then. You can change in the back," Merlin gestured towards his room. He thought he saw the ghost of a smile cross Arthur's face but he couldn't tell for sure.

Merlin turned his attention to his shelves—anything to get his mind off Arthur getting undressed in his room—and searched for a salve that would help soothe Arthur's feet. He jumped when Arthur cleared his throat behind him.

"How do they fit?" Arthur asked. Merlin could have swore he’d lowered his voice an octave on purpose.

He swallowed and took a breath before answering, but his voice still came out higher than he’d have liked. “They’re a bit tight. Your legs are um, larger than I thought.”

“It’s all muscle, I can assure you.”

“I’m sure it is.” Merlin blushed and caught himself. “I mean, er, I’ll have to buy you some. Trousers, that is. Just wear the old ones for now.”

He spun around and went back to fiddling with things on his shelf. What was he looking for again? Merlin was still pondering that question— _not_ thinking of the way the fabric clung to Arthur’s arse—when Arthur returned. He gestured for Arthur to pick up the basket of clothes and they headed out.

Just as they exited Merlin’s hut they ran into Will heading for the market. “Oh, Merlin! I’ve been looking for you.”

“I was out gathering herbs,” Merlin replied. “Is something wrong? Is Freya alright?”

“No, no, everything’s great with her. It’s just...well, she told me about the plans for tonight. About you and Morgana coming over later.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t, er...I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

Merlin noticed Will’s eyes flicker to Arthur. “Oh. I see. What if I left him here?”

“Would Cornelius allow that?”

“Probably not.” Merlin deflated. “I could tie him up outside.”

“I am _not_ an animal,” Arthur growled in Merlin’s ear.

“Or take away his will,” Will suggested. “Like you did that one time with Matthew.”

“That was because Matthew was being an ass. And I hate doing that. I never know how long it’ll last for.”

“I’m sorry, Merlin. I just don’t want him in my house, near my pregnant wife. If you had a family, you’d understand.”

Merlin stiffened and before Will could apologise he snapped, “I have a mother, as you well know. And I’m perfectly fine with _her_ meeting Arthur.”

“I didn’t mean it that way, Merlin. Look, I’m—I’m sorry. I’ve got to get going, yeah? Fish to be sold. I’ll see you around. Sorry again, mate.”

Will shuffled away and Merlin glared after him. When he was out of earshot, Merlin muttered to Arthur, “Can you believe that’s my best friend?”

Arthur snorted. “Twat.”

Merlin laughed. “Yes. But I grew up with him and I love him.” Arthur did a double take and his eyes widened. Merlin hastened to clarify. “Oh, no, not like that! I wouldn’t—I haven’t—He’s like a brother.” A brother Merlin thought about naked every once in a while.

Arthur composed himself. “I didn’t think you meant any other way, Merlin. But since we’re on the topic, is _that_ why you don’t have a family?”

Merlin was speechless a moment. “I—That’s none of your business! Let’s go, we’re running behind already. And don’t talk unless I tell you to!”

  


Merlin washed the trousers he’d soiled that morning as an example for Arthur to follow. Like seemingly everything else, Arthur picked up on this too. Merlin laid back on the grass and watched the clouds as Arthur worked.

He must have closed his eyes because when he next opened them it was well into the afternoon. Arthur was laid out with his hands behind his head beside him, the laundry drying on the rocks in the sun.

“Good afternoon,” Arthur welcomed him back from sleep.

Merlin judged the distance of the sun from when he’d last looked up. It was getting on dusk. They’d been out here a while.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Merlin asked, stretching his limbs.

“You looked peaceful. I didn’t want to disturb you.” Merlin raised an eyebrow. “And I wanted a break.”

“I don’t get breaks. What if someone needed me?”

“Will saw me carrying the basket. I’m sure he would have told someone where to find you.”

Merlin couldn’t disagree with that logic. He still didn’t like the fact that Arthur had let him sleep. And had been watching him sleep from the sound of it.

“Gather the clothes. We’re leaving.”

They got to their feet quickly, Merlin a bit unsteady at first, and Arthur went to put the damp trousers in the basket. They followed the path back through the village to Merlin’s hut.

“What are we eating tonight?” Arthur asked as soon as they were inside.

“Boar.”

“Again?”

“It’s the flank this time. More meat, and less bone.”

“Are you not going to teach me how to cook as well?”

“No. I have to leave _something_ for myself to do. If I sat around and made you do everything all day I’d feel rather unproductive.”

“Fine by me.” Arthur laid back on one of the beds. “Say, after dinner, could you show me around the island? I saw some of it before my men died, but when those beasts attacked I stopped travelling too far from the cave.”

“It’ll be dark by then. Tomorrow, maybe.” The conversation came to an end when Merlin went outside to start roasting the boar flank.

Merlin started the fire with magic just as Morgana approached. “If only we could all light a flame so easily,” she said as greeting.

Merlin looked up but didn’t stand from his crouch. “Hello, Morgana. Sorry about not being able to make it to Will’s. He’s being his usual unreasonable self.”

“It’s alright. That’s actually why I’m here. If you’d still like to have dinner, that is.”

Merlin’s smile brightened his face. “Of course. I’ve got enough here for three.”

“I won’t eat that much. I understand Arthur probably eats a lot.”

Merlin shrugged and turned the meat. “I think he’s just used to larger portions.”

“I wonder what it’s like in England.”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“Because he’s not _my_ slave, obviously.”

“So? It’s not like he’s going to bite you. I think even in his culture hitting women was frowned upon.”

“I dare him to try. I shoot straighter than any of the men on this island. And I may not be able to hold the largest of blades, but I’m quick.”

Merlin chuckled. “And you call me dramatic. Why don’t you go inside and wait with him? This’ll be done soon.”

Morgana rubbed her knuckles on the top of Merlin’s head in an affectionate gesture before going inside Merlin’s hut. Merlin listened to their muffled voices over the crackling fire as he roasted the boar flank. When it was finally ready he moved it to a plate and carried it inside.

“—called cars, and they’re powered by a liquid called petrol. And they travel on roads, which are paths only made of stone and much wider...” Arthur was explaining to an enraptured Morgana. At Merlin’s entrance he looked up and Morgana tore her eyes away as well.

Merlin placed the plate down on the table. Arthur had already set out three plates for them and once the meat cooled they would dig in. While steam still rose from it though, Merlin nodded and allowed Arthur to continue talking.

“Anyways, these cars, they go very fast. Everything goes fast really. It’s not like here at all, where it feels like you have all the time in the world. Everyone is always busy busy busy.”

“What did you do there?” Morgana asked. “What was your job?”

“I was a merchant. When the pirates tried to attack our ship, I was on my way to India. The navigator panicked a bit and just told the captain to set sail in the direction of the wind. It blew us straight into the fog and the next thing we know the bow is crunching like an accordion into the cliffs.”

“Where’s India?” Merlin asked.

“What’s an accordion?” Morgana inquired at the same time.

Arthur laughed. “India is a place just under Russia and east of Africa. Though I don’t suppose that helps you much if you don’t know where those are either.” He turned to Morgana. “An accordion is an instrument that makes different sounds depending on how you bend it. It folds in on itself and squeezes out air.”

“Oh! What is music like in England?” Morgana bounced in her seat excitedly.

“It’s...I don’t know. It’s like it is anywhere. If there’s anything I’ve learned from being a traveling merchant, it’s that music and money are the universal languages.”

“And love,” Morgana added. “Everybody knows what love is.”

Arthur nodded seriously. “Yes, I suppose they do. But then the same could be said of death.”

“How morbid of you,” Merlin couldn’t resist saying. “You would have to bring up death when something as bright as love is mentioned.”

Arthur gave Merlin a puzzled look. “Love is most often very painful, Merlin.”

Morgana patted Merlin’s knee. “He wouldn’t know, poor thing. He hasn’t found anyone. Yet.”

Merlin rolled his eyes and began to serve the boar, burning fingers be damned. “Neither have you, Mor _gana_.”

“Well, there has been an offer...”

Merlin froze. “Who?”

“Cornelius.”

“Aha! Tell me you’re joking. He’s old enough to be your father.”

Morgana shrugged. “I don’t love him, I’m sure of that. But I’m twenty-seven and nobody else has expressed an interest.”

“That’s probably because you keep scaring them off,” Merlin pointed out. “Nobody likes a woman that’s more superior than them, either. And as the voice of the people, you’re pretty important.”

“Which is exactly the point Cornelius made. Since his wife hasn’t been able to conceive he’s been looking for someone else. I’m the oldest available female.”

Merlin plopped a slab of meat on Morgana’s plate. “I highly disapprove.”

Morgana shrugged again. “He isn’t forcing me into it. But it’s not as if there’s any other option. There’s no reason _not_ to go ahead with it.”

“How about the fact that you don’t love him? I would never mate with someone I didn’t care for.”

“Yes, everyone’s well aware of _that_ , Merlin.”

Merlin gave Arthur his portion of boar. “What about that fellow you used to talk about all the time...what’s his name? Mordred? What happened to him?”

Morgana prodded her dinner. “He’s still available, but...”

“But what?” Merlin served himself finally.

“I don’t think he likes me.”

“Have you asked him?”

“No.”

“Well how do you know if you haven’t asked him?”

“What if he really doesn’t fancy me though?”

“Morgana. How can you be confident in things that don’t even matter, like shooting, but completely hopeless when it comes to things you should be great at?”

“Merlin, you are the last person I need talking to me about gender roles.”

Merlin blushed. “Wh-what’s that supposed to mean?”

Morgana quirked her brow. “You know exactly what that is supposed to mean.”

For the first time in a few minutes, Arthur laughed. “Look at you two. You’re like an old married couple already. Why don’t you both just get with each other and solve everything?”

Morgana, who never blushed, turned as red as Merlin. “Er...”

“We’ve tried that.”

“It didn’t exactly work out.”

“At all.”

“No. It was a disaster really.”

“Utter disaster.”

Arthur frowned but Merlin could tell he was hiding a smirk, damn him. “What happened?”

“Well, it’s more like what _didn’t_ happen—”

“Morgana!” Merlin yelled.

“Oh,” Arthur commented. “ _Oh._ Well, that would put a damper on things, wouldn’t it?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Morgana agreed.

“Morgana,” Merlin growled.

She continued. “But it was all fine. The same thing happened with him and Freya after all, so I don’t feel too offended. Merlin just has to find the right person, is all.” She pat his knee again and this time he brushed her off.

Arthur couldn’t stifle his laughter. “Merlin and _Freya_? As in Will’s Freya?”

“You act as though there’s something wrong with it,” Merlin said defensively. “We were all four of us friends as kids. It was only natural we pair off.”

“Yes, but that didn’t exactly happen, did it?” Arthur sneered.

Merlin had had enough. “Look what you’ve done, Morgana. I had him properly trained and well-mannered and now he’s talking to me like—like we’re equals!”

“We _are_ equals,” Arthur said. “Just because I’m letting you believe otherwise for the moment doesn’t mean we aren’t.”

“Merlin, I think you’re overreacting,” Morgana said calmly. “He lives here. He was bound to find out.”

“Find out what?” Arthur asked, instantly curious.

“Nothing!” Merlin shouted and shot Morgana a look. “I know what you’re doing Morgana, and I’m warning you, stop.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” Morgana said and stuck her chin out defiantly.

“No, but I would make you go bald.”

Her eyes widened with fright. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, but I would,” Merlin challenged and flashed his eyes gold for good measure.

Arthur sensed the tension and longed to ease it. “Alright, alright, let’s just have a nice dinner, yeah? Nobody needs to go bald.”

Merlin huffed and sat down to resume eating. Arthur wanted to press for more information, like just what wasn’t Merlin telling him?—though he had an idea—but he knew it would have to wait at least until Morgana left. She had put Merlin in a sour mood.

They passed the rest of the dinner in first awkward, then companionable silence, interrupted only occasionally by any questions Morgana might have thought of on the spot. When the plates were clean and moonlight replaced the sun, Merlin was in a much better mood. They sat and talked for awhile before Morgana finally said she ought to get going and left.

“You’ll see more of the village tomorrow when I make the rounds,” Merlin said, yawning. He stood and started off for bed. “Then I can show you the rest of the island.”

“Is this the only village here? Is the island quite large?” Arthur asked.

Merlin turned in the doorway to his room. “There’s another village at the bottom of the mountain that split off from here. That’s where the cave-workers live.”

“Cave-workers?” Arthur tilted his head.

“The people that mine the crystals we use for currency.”

“That mountain did look far.”

“Exactly. That’s why people stopped walking back and forth and just settled there. Now they only come once every full moon to drop off what they’ve collected.” Merlin yawned again. “Go to sleep now.”

Thankfully Merlin didn’t dream of Arthur that night. In fact, he couldn’t remember his dream at all. He was simply closing his eyes in the lightless room one moment and opening them slowly the next.

He got up and went to the front room to peer out the window. It was about midmorning judging by the sun. Arthur was still sound asleep on one of the beds.

Merlin let him rest while he prepared his medicine bag, which was really just a small box with a string attached for him to wear over his shoulder. He put in Matthew’s aching stomach treatment, Helen’s sore throat medicine, Cedric’s constipation solution, Tristan’s salve for strained muscles, and a few other vials with potions that would aid the villagers. As always, there were small pieces of cloth and disinfectants in case he needed to apply a bandage or provide first aid. They were out of mango and would get breakfast on the way.

Arthur awoke just as Merlin was putting the lid on his medicine bag. Merlin slung the string over his head and settled it on his shoulder, grunting from the weight.

Arthur was at his side in a flash. “Do you need me to carry that?”

Merlin was going to decline, but then he remembered why Arthur was there in the first place. What good was a slave if he wasn’t going to load everything onto him?

“Yes, thanks,” Merlin said and handed it off to Arthur. “It should get lighter the further along we get. We’re going to Mordred first since he’s closest.”

Arthur’s lips curved up in a small smile. “That’s the bloke Morgana likes.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Yes, it is. Don’t say that around him though or Morgana’ll gut you like a fish when she finds out you’ve told.”

Arthur’s smile disappeared. “That sounds unpleasant.”

“It is. I’ve seen her gut a fish before. It was quite traumatic.” Arthur flat out frowned now and Merlin, laughing, put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m only joking, mate. But seriously, don’t bring it up.”

“Tosser,” Arthur muttered.

  


The man that opened the door had a young face that broke into a smile the instant he recognised Merlin. “Merlin!” He greeted the healer with a hug.

“Hello, Mordred. How are you feeling?”

“Oh, rotten. I want to itch so badly. I’m not sure I would have lasted a minute more if you hadn’t shown up.”

“Good thing I came to you first then.” Merlin waved Arthur forward and Arthur lifted the lid of the bag. Merlin plucked out a vial of salve and handed it to Mordred. “Apply it twice a day and the rash should clear up soon. You’ll be tempted to use it all at once for the relief—Don’t.”

Mordred nodded. “Thank you, Merlin. Everyone will be so glad when I return to work.”

Merlin smiled. “Of course. Goodbye Mordred.”

They moved on through the village. Merlin pointed out key locations, like where to go to buy trousers or get them mended, which houses to avoid because the Elders that lived there were cantankerous old snobs, and who to go to for a haircut if you didn’t want to do it yourself. Arthur made mental note of everything, realising soon Merlin may send him on errands to these people.

When the supplies in the medicine bag were half gone, Merlin looked up at the sun and told Arthur they’d take a short break for breakfast, though by now it was time for lunch. They stopped by the market and got a mango to share, at the same time dropping off Helen’s throat medicine at her jewellery stall. They sat in the shade beneath a tree and ate quietly.

“What I don’t understand is,” Arthur said, licking his fingers noisily, “why does everyone buy mangoes when they can just go out and pick their own?”

Merlin swallowed his final bite. “There’s a couple of reasons. The first being that when you get old, it becomes rather difficult to climb a tree. It gives the children that are too young to work something to do when they tire of playing. And it helps the economy. The more jobs, the more circulation. If everyone went out and got their own mangoes, the prices would be high for those unable to climb. That’s not exactly fair.”

Arthur nodded seriously. “That makes sense.”

“It doesn’t matter either way for me though, since I get everything free. Though when I’m old and can’t work I’ll have to pay like everyone else. That’s what happened to my father.”

“When Will said you didn’t have a family, and you said you had a mother...does that mean your father died?” Arthur asked gently.

Merlin nodded. “Yes. It was a while ago.”

“How long have you been the doctor?”

“Since I was fifteen. So about ten summers. But I’m more than what my father was. He didn’t have my...abilities.”

“What abilities?”

Merlin turned his head and raised an eyebrow. “You know, the things I do, the spells I cast. My magic.” Merlin said it like it was obvious, and indeed it should have been. “I used it to ease your broken rib earlier. And to light fires. Surely you’ve seen me using it.”

Arthur shook his head. “I wasn’t very aware of what was going on when I was imprisoned.”

“Well, how else did you think I would make Morgana go bald when I threatened her last night?” Merlin laughed.

“I thought you’d just shave her hair off.” Arthur shrugged.

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Complete dollophead. Anyway, I heal more than the people. Sometimes when we’re in a drought I make it rain. If the warriors are facing a particularly challenging beast, I help them slay it. When rocks fall and trap the cave-workers I make the barrier explode. Whatever needs doing, I do it.”

“So you’re more like...a shaman.”

“What’s that?”

“Someone that’s, like, one with the earth. They’re spiritual and interact with the elements like you do.”

“Oh, you mean a druid.”

“That’s another word for it I suppose.”

“Well then, yeah, I’m basically a druid. I have a triskele on the front of my house after all.”

“Is that what that symbol represents? Your druidic status?”

“Sort of.”

Arthur thought a moment then shifted uncomfortably. His legs were falling asleep and he sensed that Merlin would tell him to get up so they could continue the rounds in a moment. He asked, “Have you ever had to kill people with your magic before?”

The question took Merlin off guard. “No. What kind of question is that?”

“I was only—I just wanted to know—”

“If you should be afraid of me,” Merlin finished. He shook his head. “I wouldn’t hurt you. I don’t like hurting anybody.”

“You have had to hurt people then?”

Merlin frowned. “Occasionally there are...circumstances that require me to bind others magically. A few people wanted me to tighten your restraints with magic at first, but I managed to convince them it was unnecessary. As I said, I don’t enjoy hurting people.”

Arthur relaxed. “That’s good to know.”

Merlin became suddenly more serious than Arthur had ever seen him. He looked straight in his eyes and said, “I would never harm you, Arthur.”

Arthur breathed deeply and placed his hand over Merlin’s between them. Merlin looked at their touching hands in surprise before raising his eyes back to Arthur’s.

“I know that,” Arthur replied. Arthur held his gaze until Merlin blushed and was forced to look away.

“We should finish before the sun starts to go down. Especially if you want to see more of the island today,” Merlin said and stood hastily. Arthur followed suit and they resumed the rounds.

Tristan was their last stop. When he opened the door he eyed Arthur warily before greeting Merlin.

“Hello Tristan.” Merlin smiled. “Feeling any better today?”

Tristan ran a hand through his hair and Merlin briefly wished he could plunge his own fingers into the black mop and bury his face in the crook of that neck. He quickly refocused his attention to what Tristan was saying.

“—less throbbing when I’m lying down but when I’m standing or moving about it flares up again.”

“I see.” Like a well-oiled machine, Arthur stepped forward and opened the medicine bag. There was only one vial left, and he took that out and handed it to Merlin, who nodded gratefully. “This should help. If it’s still giving you trouble in a couple days, come see me.”

He handed the vial to Tristan who took it quickly. Tristan stared at it a moment before asking, “Will you help me put in on?”

Merlin’s heart skipped a beat and he had to remember how to breathe. He’d imagined massaging salve onto Tristan’s skin many times before, and now the man was _asking him to do it._

“S-Sure. Is it alright if Arthur comes in? He sort of has to follow me everywhere since I’m responsible for him.”

“He doesn’t have any weapons on him, does he?” Tristan narrowed his eyes and looked Arthur up and down.

Arthur returned the glare as Merlin shook his head. “No. But he’s well-mannered. And obedient.” Arthur bit back a snappish retort and tried to breathe calmly.  

“Then by all means, come in.” Tristan waved them inside and they entered.

Tristan’s house wasn’t nearly as nice as Merlin’s. Nobody’s was except Cornelius, whose home was even more elaborate because he was the village leader. Tristan’s hut was as simple as the rest of the ordinary villagers’: one room consisting of a wardrobe, a bed, and a few storage containers.

Merlin followed the tall dark man in and nearly gasped when Tristan began removing his trousers. But he had to remain professional. He was, as Arthur put it, a doctor, after all. He’d delivered tonnes of babies and performed just as many penis examinations on Elders who couldn’t get erect anymore.

Though this, admittedly, was different. This was no wrinkled Elder. This was _Tristan_. Built, hot, amazingly sexy Tristan. And Merlin was going to have a look at something he’d only imagined in his wank fantasies.

There was only about a three second period between when Tristan got his trousers off and when he laid down on his stomach. To add insult to injury, Tristan faced away from him and he hadn’t gotten a glimpse at all. Merlin tried to keep the frown from his face—Arthur was already suspicious if not entirely certain—and knelt down next to the bed.

Tristan raised his hand behind him and gave Merlin back the vial. “It hurts the most here,” he said, indicating the inside of his left thigh. “But also a bit here.”

Merlin swallowed. “Okay.” He dipped a finger into the smooth salve and applied it to the skin. “Sorry,” he said when Tristan flinched. “Bit cold. You’ll get used to it.”

He worked his hands in slow circles, kneading the tense muscle carefully to avoid further injury. Hesitantly, he moved closer inward to the inside of Tristan’s thigh, and as he did so Tristan spread his legs further apart to allow better access. It gave Merlin a rather good view of Tristan’s balls and he fought the urge to push his nose deep into the cleft and inhale.

Merlin swallowed again and took a deep breath. “P-Pay attention to how I’m doing it so you can do it correctly when you have to. The key is to move in circles and not to go too quickly. When you’re done you should expand and contract the muscle so it doesn’t tighten up again.”

Merlin dipped his fingers in again and began to apply more. The smell started to fill the room and Tristan sighed beneath him. A jolt of arousal shot through Merlin at the sound of satisfaction. He was making Tristan feel good.

“How should I...expand and contract the muscle?” Tristan asked in a hoarse voice that only aroused Merlin more.

“L-Lunges would be best. Or squats.”

“How long before I’m able to return to patrol?”

“You should be fine after two or three days if you keep this up. And don’t lay around. It’s much better if you exercise the muscle.”

“Ah,” Tristan sighed again as Merlin worked the muscle. “You know so much Merlin. This village is lucky to have you.”

Merlin blushed. “All I know I learned from my father. Besides the magic.”

“Yes, the magic makes you quite special. Let’s hope your children inherit it.”

“Er...”

“Speaking of, have you found a wife yet?” Tristan turned his head to look at him. “You’re not getting any younger you know.”

“I...There’s no one that I’m interested in at the moment.” Arthur chuckled just barely audibly across from him and Merlin lifted his gaze to glare at him.

“I heard Cornelius proposed to Morgana. Everyone always said you should mate with her and now she’s been snatched up,” Tristan continued. “It’s not too late, you know. Even if you don’t fancy her, you’re still friends. Isn’t that what Will and Freya did?”

Merlin shifted the attention away from him. “You’re still unwed too. Isn’t there someone you like?”

Tristan laughed. “I’m only twenty. I’ve got time. But yes, there is one girl...Mithian.”

Merlin deflated and felt hopes he’d been unaware he had sink. “Mithian is pretty.”

“She’s more than pretty. She’s smart and beautiful and can sing amazingly. But she fancies someone else.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. You.”

“Oh.”

“I’m not upset or anything. I’m not the type to get jealous. But I was hoping you could, maybe...”

“I’ll talk to her for you. I’ll let her know I’m not interested and tell her all about how wonderful you are.”

Tristan sighed. “Thank you, Merlin. I knew I could count on you.”

Merlin put the top back on the vial and got to his feet. “Any time. I’m here to help.”

He kept his eyes pointedly fixed on Tristan’s eyes as the man stood up and stepped into his trousers. “It’s great that the council gave Arthur to you. You’re always helping people but nobody ever helps you.”

Merlin nodded and glanced at Arthur who was smirking in the corner. Yes, he definitely knew what was going on in Merlin’s head then. “Arthur has been very helpful the past few days. I even have some free time.”

“Good, good. I’ll see you soon then, Merlin. Come visit once you’ve talked with Mithian.”

“Of course. Bye, Tristan. Arthur,” Merlin waved him over, “Come on.” And they left.

“Nobody else knows, do they?” Arthur asked once they were out of earshot.

Merlin stiffened. “Knows what?”

“Oh, please, don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you. Especially not when your hard-on is showing.”

Merlin grabbed the medicine bag from Arthur. “Give me that.” He situated it in front of his crotch and blushed a whole new shade of red. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Arthur,” he said obstinately.

“The fact that you’re gay.”

“I’m what?”

“Gay. You know, a poof, a fairy. A raging homosexual.” Merlin blinked. “That you like cock, you idiot.”

Merlin’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets and he quickly glanced around to make sure nobody had overheard. “I’m not—shut up!”

“I thought as much.”

Merlin huffed. “I’ll—I’ll take away your will. Don’t think I won’t,” he threatened. “Or curse you into silence. I’ll do it.”

“Your secret is safe with me, Merlin,” Arthur replied calmly.

“I’d rather it not be with you at all,” Merlin muttered.

“Does anyone besides Morgana know?”

Merlin sighed and resigned himself to giving in. “Just Will and Freya. Nobody else.”

“Aren’t there any others like you here?”

“A couple, yeah. Doesn’t mean I fancy them. Besides, I think they’ve paired off by now.” Merlin shrugged. “I’m okay with being alone. I’m far too busy for romance anyways.”

“Not anymore.” Merlin quirked a brow. “Didn’t you just tell Tristan you had free time now that I’m helping you? We’ll find someone for you. Maybe there’s someone that goes both ways and only doesn’t know it yet because they haven’t been presented with the opportunity.”

“No. Absolutely not,” Merlin refused. “You are not meddling in my love life. Or any of my affairs for that matter. You’re just a slave anyways.”

They’d crossed into the thicker part of the jungle by now and were out of sight from prying eyes. In a flash of anger, Arthur grabbed Merlin’s arm and pushed him against a tree. “I am _not_ your slave,” he growled. “I’m only enduring this treatment while I figure out how to get off this sodding island. Do not treat me like some sort of dog.”

Merlin looked down at Arthur’s grip on his arm and blinked, a jolt of arousal shooting through him. “You’re hurting me,” he said softly, not quite believing himself.

Arthur released his hold with a sigh. “Sorry. But I don’t like being called a slave, especially not by you. The other villagers don’t understand me like you seem to. I thought you were my friend.” He looked down and continued walking. “I was only trying to help. If you don’t want me meddling, I won’t meddle.”

Merlin shuffled forward to regain his place as lead. “Good,” he said and tilted his chin defiantly.

He showed Arthur the plateau where the village gathered for ceremonies such as the death of a leader or respected Elder, or to celebrate the birth of the leader’s child. Next Merlin took him to the waterfall where the sun glistened over the water and made rainbows shine across the surface. When the sun was low in the horizon, they went to their last stop of the day: the Origin site.

“Why’s it called that?” Arthur asked.

“You see these rocks?” Merlin pointed at the large stones that formed a circle of what seemed to be benches.

“What about them?”

“They’re not natural. It’s believed that since this place isn’t too far from the beach, the first people that came here had magic and set up their homes at this spot. At least temporarily.”

“If they had magic, why don’t all of their descendents?”

“People think it either died out, or that only one of them had magic and that’s why it’s rare.”

“So you’re descended from the first magic user?” Arthur asked in awe.

Merlin shrugged. “Probably. According to legend there’s only one druid every hundred summers and even then they’ve never been as powerful as me. But there’s no way to tell for sure because legends can change as they get passed down from generation to generation.”

“Wow. You’re like a demigod,” Arthur remarked in disbelief.

“A what?”

“A—Don’t you have religion here?”

Merlin frowned. “Er, no.”

“Then what do you worship, if anything?”

“Nature, I suppose.”

“And when you die, where does your spirit go?”

“Back to nature.” Merlin shrugged again.

“Huh. Alright then.” Arthur refocused. “Anyways, why are you the most powerful druid? What makes you so special?”

Merlin shifted uneasily. “The council wondered the same thing when I was a child. There was a huge gathering and everything. Eventually my parents confessed that I’d been...conceived at the Origin site under a full moon. The explanation certainly makes sense considering magic is at its strongest here.”

Arthur looked around at where he was standing. He wondered which stone slab Merlin’s parents had fucked on. Where did Merlin’s life precisely begin?

“Why doesn’t everyone just conceive here?” Arthur wondered aloud. “Wouldn’t that increase the chances for magical babies?”

Merlin’s lips pressed in a tight line. “One druid is dangerous enough. Imagine what two could do.”

Arthur gave Merlin a curious look. “I don’t understand.”

“The villagers respect me, Arthur. But they also fear me. I could destroy the entire village at breakfast and be finished with the rest of the island by the end of the day. And they know that. Though I’ve sworn to be loyal and serve faithfully just like every magic user before me, everyone is always frightened by what I might do.”

Arthur looked pained. “But that means—” Arthur stopped himself and shook his head. Merlin urged him on.

“Means what?”

Arthur took a deep breath and raised his eyes to Merlin’s. “That means you’re alone.”

  


They returned home just as the last rays of sunlight disappeared from the sky. There was no more meat left so Merlin improvised and made soup. It didn’t fill them up nearly enough after a day of walking, but Merlin promised a heartier breakfast in the morning.

Merlin worried Arthur would try to bring up Merlin’s need for a companion again but thankfully Arthur didn’t. They went their separate ways to bed and, completely knackered from the exercise, were soon asleep.

  


Merlin was dreaming. A very small part of him knew that, like a small part of him had always to make sure his magic didn’t spill over or lash out when he was angry. But the majority of his brain insisted this was real. The colours, the textures, the smells...all so vivid and clear that it had to be more than a figment.

He was in the front room of his home. Arthur was lying naked on one of the beds, face down and laid out the same way Tristan had been. But this was no Tristan. This was perfection itself.

Dream Arthur yawned impatiently and looked over his shoulder at Merlin. His arms were pillowed beneath his head and he rested his cheek on his forearms. “Anytime now, Merlin,” he drawled huskily.

Merlin couldn’t move fast enough. His limbs were like honey and no matter how hard he tried to increase his speed he met only frustration. There was a generous bit of salve already dripping from his fingers. With one hand he spread Arthur’s arse and with a slick finger on the other he rubbed over Arthur’s hole. Arthur shivered.

“Sorry,” Merlin said hoarsely. “Bit cold. You’ll get used to it.”

Arthur leaned forward to shift his weight to his arms so he could push his arse higher into the air. “Better get to it then,” he nearly whined.

Merlin’s honey limbs set to work. It seemed to take forever to stretch Arthur open but Merlin could handle it as long as Arthur kept making those filthy sounds. When Merlin’s finger brushed against the spot deep inside, Arthur gave a wrecked cry and put his face into his arms to muffle the noise.

Merlin caressed the pert left cheek of Arthur’s arse soothingly. “It’s alright, love. Let me hear it, I want to hear it all. I want to watch you fall apart beneath me.” Arthur’s cock twitched and he began panting heavily. “That’s it,” Merlin said encouragingly. “That’s it, just let it out. I want to hear you scream.”

“M-Merlin,” Arthur breathed. He inhaled sharply as Merlin found as spot again. “Merlin, please, I need you, I need _more_.”

Merlin leaned forward and licked around where his fingers disappeared inside Arthur and Arthur whimpered pitifully. “Yeah,” Merlin breathed hot over Arthur’s entrance. “Yeah, alright Arthur. Fuck, I’ll give you what you want.”

As is the case in dreams, Merlin’s hand was suddenly and conveniently renewed with salve and he fisted his cock to get it slick. With one arm wrapped around Arthur’s waist, he lined up. Arthur bit his lip in preparation as he watched Merlin over his shoulder. His eyes widened as the head was just beginning to push past the first ring of muscle—

A sudden yell woke Merlin. He nearly cried at the loss of the dream. It had been perfect: he’d had Arthur open and willing beneath him, he’d been confident enough to talk _dirty_ (which he was much too shy to do in reality), and Arthur had been whining, _begging_ for his cock. Now he had to drag himself out of bed and see what the hell that noise was.

The yell repeated itself, and this time Merlin was awake enough to make out the words. “Merlin, come out here right now!”

Merlin rubbed his eyes and slipped out of bed. He padded into the front room where Lance was holding Arthur, the slave’s arms fixed behind his back. His wrists were bound with rope.

Merlin was shocked. “What’s happened?” He demanded angrily. Arthur looked down and away, ashamed. “Arthur?”

“I caught him trying to sneak out of the village,” Lance explained. “Followed him to the cove and stopped him there.”

“I told you, they aren’t weapons, they’re just _things_ ,” Arthur pleaded with wide eyes. Merlin took an involuntary step back. Those same eyes had been just as wide only moments before in his dream...

“I confiscated them, naturally.” Lance took one hand off Arthur and rummaged through his trouser pocket. He produced two round circular objects that shone gold in the candlelight. Merlin took them from him and turned them over warily.

Arthur struggled against his restraints and Lance tightened his grip. “What are they?” Lance asked.

One of the gold disks popped open when Merlin pushed the button on the front that seemed to be some sort of clasp. The device opened like an oyster, the left side containing a photo of a young woman with hair as yellow as Arthur’s. She wore a beautiful dress that complimented the curve of her shoulders and she had a necklace that Merlin could see was expensive. The right side featured a white circular plane with lines and strange symbols marked around a central point. Three arms of varying thickness pointed to different symbols.

Merlin found himself frowning not only at the impossibility of such a device, but at the picture of the woman. Without his meaning to, his brows came together in a furrowed line above his eyes and he gripped the gold oyster with too much force. Arthur struggled against the ropes again.

Merlin snapped the device shut and turned his attention to the other confiscated object. This was gold plated like the first, but had no covering. It was instead a simple white circular face with lines, but this had only one arm that pointed to different symbols. Where the arm pointed changed when Merlin turned it.

This was more puzzling. It fascinated Merlin and even Lancelot stretched out his neck to see the source of bewilderment on the druid’s face.

Finally Merlin asked. “What is it?” He raised his eyes to Arthur’s, who was watching cautiously.

“That one’s a compass.”

“A compass.” Merlin tried the word out on his tongue. “What about this one?” He held up the other.

Arthur swallowed. “A clock. It tells time.”

Merlin’s heart skipped. At first he thought for sure he’d heard “cock” but there was definitely an “el” sound in there. “Clock,” he said, shaping his lips over the word. “Hmm.”

“What do they do?” Lance asked just what was on Merlin’s mind. Well, besides _who the hell is that woman and why is she in the clock?_

“A compass indicates direction. North, east, south, west.” Arthur stared into their faces hoping they’d understand.

Thankfully they did. They knew the mines were in the northern part of the island, the cove on the eastern shore, the mountain in the northwest that ran nearly all along the west coast, and the cliffs in the south.

“And this?” Merlin held up the clock and tried not to let his voice sound too tight. “How does this tell time?”

Arthur glanced around. “I’d love to explain, really, but I find it quite hard to do under such circumstances.” He wriggled his bound arms for emphasis.

Merlin snorted but acquiesced. “Lancelot,” he nodded at the warrior. “It’s alright. These aren’t weapons, just objects of sentimental value.” He opened the clock again and turned it so Lance could see the woman. He gaped at her striking beauty before untying Arthur’s wrists.

Arthur rubbed where the rope had dug into his skin and glared heatedly at Lancelot. “Cheers, mate.”

Lance feinted with his stone sword and Arthur flinched back. The outsider glared even harder when Lance left, cackling.

Arthur wouldn’t meet Merlin’s eyes for a good few moments. Merlin was tired and impatient and wanted to get back to dreaming. Eventually Merlin sighed and placed the items down on the table they ate at. “If you wanted to go back and get these, you could have just asked,” he said. “Now you’ve gone and gotten yourself in trouble. They’ll ask me to tie you up, put you on a leash like a pet.”

“I’m not a—”

“I know that. I don’t want to do that. I never wanted—” Merlin took a deep breath. He couldn’t show weakness, not when it was so important to maintain control. He never wanted a slave. It wasn’t in his nature to order someone around. And yet Morgana had convinced him, sly devious harpy that she was. “Just go to sleep. We’ll talk in the morning after breakfast.”

Arthur frowned and chewed his lip like he wanted to say more but finally nodded and got into bed. Merlin returned to his room and they listened to each other breathe as they fell asleep once more.

The morning brought tense, awkward silence that Merlin quickly filled by trying much too hard to pretend last night didn’t happen. He went to the market early and got ham and they gorged themselves on that to make up for a small dinner. Arthur watched Merlin closely until Merlin slid his plate toward him and he was forced to wash the dishes. Merlin chewed his nails down to the quick while he considered what he ought to say.

Morgana appeared and saved him. “Morning, boys,” she sang as she walked in.

“Hello, Morgana.”

“Morning.”

“I take it you know why I’m here,” she directed to Merlin, who nodded. “Good. I’ve brought the rope.” She produced a long length of rope from behind her back, unseen until now. “I trust with the right spell you’ll make it so he can’t get it—”

“I’ve a better idea, actually.” Merlin got to his feet.

“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow and Arthur let out a breath of relief.

“I was going to create a barrier. It would extend about ten feet out so he’d still be free to walk around the house outside. And it’s much more humane than...” He gestured to the rope.

“I completely agree. I fought the rest of the council hard on this one but I was outnumbered. You men are so cruel.”

Merlin jerked a shoulder up and down. “We just know what needs to be done and sometimes that means putting emotions aside. This, though, is intolerable.”

“It’s lucky we have your magic, then.” Morgana smiled. She turned on her heels. “Arthur,” she nodded in acknowledgement to him before leaving.

Arthur opened his mouth but Merlin cut him off. “It’s only at night. I won’t keep you locked up like an animal. I refuse.”

“I understand. It’s my fault after all. I never should have...but I was so worried I’d lost it forever,” Arthur replied, turning something over in his pocket. Merlin suspected it was the clock.

Merlin cleared his throat awkwardly before asking, “Who is she?”

Arthur looked at him and the corners of his lips twitched as he fought to hold back a smile. “Why?”

Merlin shrugged as carelessly as he could. Arthur’s facade was slipping and the light behind his eyes betrayed his amusement. Merlin would _not_ give Arthur the satisfaction of knowing he was jealous.

“It’s obviously very precious to you. I was just wondering is all.”

Arthur pulled out the clock and opened it. He touched the photo fondly and let some of his smile slip through. “It is precious. It’s the only picture of my mother I have.”

Merlin’s sigh of relief was almost audible. Almost. Arthur glanced up and smirked a bit anyway.

“She died giving birth to me,” Arthur went on. “This was taken shortly before she became pregnant with me.” At Merlin’s frown of confusion, he explained further. “In England, there’s a device called a camera. It uses light and mirrors to capture a moment on a piece of paper.”

“Strange place, this England,” Merlin muttered. But even as he thought it he imagined what other moments this ‘camera’ could capture. Could it freeze forever the moment of Arthur coming hot and thick inside Merlin if he wanted to? Could Merlin hold that paper in his hand and stare at their joined bodies? Blushing, Merlin dismissed the idea. Now was not the time for entertaining wank fantasies.

“The world is strange,” Arthur was saying. Merlin refocused on him. “I find that out more and more each day.”

“What is paper?” Merlin asked.

Arthur chuckled. “It’s...well, you don’t write here so I don’t suppose there’s a proper way to explain it to you. God, I wish I could just take you there and show you everything. You’d be so amazed.”

Merlin stopped breathing. He let himself imagine for a moment himself, far away from home, and yet content because he was with Arthur. What sort of trees were in England, what sort of villages? Arthur had described cars but what did they look like? Was it a loud place? Were the people nice?

“I-I could never leave, even if I wanted to,” Merlin said sadly.

“Of course. I didn’t mean...I wasn’t actually suggesting...”

Merlin struggled not to let disappointment show on his face. It was ridiculous that for a moment he wished Arthur had been serious. The idea of going away with Arthur to an unknown land was something out of a tale told to children. Though usually those featured a man and a _woman_ that lived happily ever after. Either way, it was impossible.

“Obviously,” Merlin snapped to hide his pain. And because he had nothing better to do today, he pointed to the basket by his worktable. “Get that. We’re going to pick more herbs.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed at the sudden unexplained anger, but he hurried to complete the task. He picked up the basket and followed Merlin outside.

  


Merlin deeply wished he could get away from Arthur, at least for an afternoon. As it was, however, he had doomed himself from the moment he stood up for Arthur with the man’s presence. It wasn’t that he disliked the outsider. He just disliked _liking_ him.

It was evident Arthur had no interest in him whatsoever and his feelings would never be returned, but it was hopeless to attempt ignoring the way sweat dripped down Arthur’s back, or the way his mouth was wide when he smiled, pouty and perfect for sucking cock. He struggled not to touch Arthur’s hair like the children that danced around his knees, wondering how soft it was and what it would feel like in his fingers.

So why Merlin had thought going deep into the jungle where they were _utterly alone_ was a good idea, he’d never know. It was easier before, when Arthur had been a new fixture in his life. Now that he seemed permanent—and more importantly, now that he’d had a filthy sex dream about him—it was much more difficult to focus on locating herbs and not on Arthur’s arse as he bent over.

Merlin flushed deep red when he’d been caught staring. Arthur had straightened up and turned just as Merlin was shifting his eyes away. He kept his eyes fixed on the ground as Arthur approached with the basket.

“Are these right?” Arthur asked with a smile, showing the herbs he’d picked.

Merlin didn’t even look at them. He wasn’t in need of any herbs anyway, so whatever Arthur had gathered would be fine. “Yeah. That’s good,” he replied and turned away to search on his own.

For lunch they had more pork. Arthur came and watched Merlin roast it over the fire, taking care to remember which herbs were used. Merlin may have said he didn’t want Arthur cooking but Arthur wanted to be able to survive by himself if anything ever happened. What if Merlin got sick and there was nobody to take care of him?

After lunch, Arthur swept the front room while Merlin made more potions and salves. Brooms in Avalon were just leaves woven into firmer strands and attached to a stick. He pushed dirt out the door as Merlin nearly beat his head against the wall struggling to remember which patients needed checking up on tomorrow. The island could really benefit from a written language, Arthur mused, that way they wouldn’t have to rely on spoken legends and memory.

Merlin was so engrossed in his work that he missed the sunset and soon it was time they eat again. Arthur took the opportunity to try out what he had learned from watching Merlin today. He took a few herbs from the shelf behind the worktable and discovered Merlin had fallen asleep. Arthur frowned, correctly guessing that it was his fault Merlin was so tired. He’d woken him up in the middle of the night after all.

Arthur thought he did a pretty solid job of cooking pork. He turned the meat so that he covered each area equally in herbs and spices. When he returned inside, the smell woke Merlin immediately.

“Wha—?” Merlin jolted up and rubbed his eyes. “Shit,” he croaked, his voice hoarse from sleep. Then he noticed the steaming meat on the table and a wide smile stretched his face. “You made dinner.”

“Very observant of you, Merlin,” Arthur retorted, though he was beaming with pride.

Merlin stretched his arms above his head before standing and coming over to sit at the table. Arthur joined him.

“Hmm,” Merlin hummed in surprise. “It’s actually quite good.”

“No need to sound so surprised, Merlin. I’m quite capable of cooking a simple meal.”

Merlin made a noncommittal response and continued eating. Maybe he had been wrong to hold off on teaching Arthur to cook. It certainly was nice to wake up and find a good meal waiting.

The feeling began when Arthur licked his fingers clean. Merlin felt it pool low in his abdomen, the familiar flare of arousal he thought he’d managed to get under control whenever Arthur did that. Now it was back in full force.

Merlin quickly excused himself and retreated back to his worktable. He had a few things to get done before going to bed and he probably wasn’t going to sleep again anytime soon since he’d had an impromptu nap. He took up his mortar and pestle and started working wild bergamot into a paste.

Merlin felt himself getting achingly aroused. He heard Arthur get up. He heard Arthur wash the dishes. He heard Arthur sit down on his bed. But he did not look up, not until he couldn’t bear Arthur’s fixed gaze on him any longer.

Arthur’s eyes were glued to the pestle in Merlin’s hand. They watched the up and down movement with dilated eyes. Arthur’s hands were clenched into fists on his thighs and his breathing was heavy. Merlin ceased his movement with the pestle, suddenly all too aware of what it looked like. Arthur raised his eyes to Merlin’s and each man swallowed thickly at the same time.

“Arthur,” Merlin began cautiously. “What herbs did you use for the meat?”

Arthur remained silent, just pointed at a group of leaves on the shelf to the left of Merlin’s head. The leaves were deep green and bright red bulbs stemmed off of them.

Merlin felt his heart begin to pound in his chest and blood roared in his ears. “That’s winter cherry, Arthur. Do you know what that does?”

“I think I have an idea,” Arthur replied huskily.

Merlin took another shaky breath. “Right. Okay. I’ll just—shit, I’ll just—” He gave up finishing the sentence and made a dash for his bedroom. He was almost there too when Arthur wrapped his hand around his wrist and yanked him back.

Merlin had been pulled into Arthur’s arms and they stood now Arthur’s front to Merlin’s back. He could feel Arthur’s erection prodding into his backside and Arthur’s hands traveled up the contours of his chest, mapping out his body. Arthur put his face deep into the crook of Merlin’s neck and breathed in the earthly, magical scent until it could fill his lungs no more.

“I’ve wanted to do this since the first time I saw you,” Arthur confessed in a whisper. He trailed one hand up to Merlin’s neck and another to his cock. Merlin’s squeak turned into a moan when the hand on his neck tightened and partially restricted his airway.

“Wanted to tie _you_ up, make you _my_ slave,” Arthur continued. The hand on Merlin’s cock tugged at the same time Arthur lurched forward and rubbed himself through the fabric against Merlin’s arse.

“Yes, _please_ ,” Merlin moaned. He’d do anything Arthur wanted him to, anything, so long as Arthur fucked him senseless and screaming into the bed. For now, all he could do was use his free hands to pull down his trousers, and, when that was done, reach back to pull down Arthur’s as well. Arthur hummed in approval.

Arthur’s prick was swollen and hot in the cleft of Merlin’s arse. Merlin shamelessly rocked himself back and forth in Arthur’s embrace, anchored only by the tight hand wrapped around his neck that kept him from breathing properly. It was a thrilling sensation. Arthur was entirely in control; he was only letting Merlin think he had a bit of freedom as he lost himself taking pleasure in Arthur’s body.

Arthur wasn’t idle. His cock leaked precome that slickened the home he’d found between Merlin’s cheeks, and he rocked with Merlin, one hand firmly stroking Merlin’s throbbing cock. Merlin’s arms reached around Arthur’s body and pulled him closer from behind, urging him to go harder, faster, deeper, even if there was no penetration. But Merlin would get that later.

Merlin hadn’t eaten as much as Arthur and only just now did the herb take full power. “Want you to take me so hard, Arthur,” he confessed. “Fill me up, yeah? Give me everything, want to swallow you, feel you dripping down my thighs, want to be sore and raw and _yours_.”

“Oh _God_ , Merlin—” Arthur erupted powerfully onto Merlin’s skin. His seed rolled down Merlin’s lower back, over the globes of his arse, and finally trailed down the backs of his thighs. Merlin stepped out of his trousers and kicked them aside just before they could be stained.

Arthur didn’t forget about him. In fact Arthur seemed to be getting hard again, thanks to the aphrodisiac no doubt. He finished Merlin off with a few quick jerks of his hand and caught the white liquid in his hand before bringing it back around and applying it to Merlin’s entrance.

Merlin whined high in the back of his throat. He took Arthur’s wrists in his hands and guided them to his bed, which he promptly fell face-first into and thrust his arse in the air where Arthur could give it proper attention. Like Arthur, his cock was stiffening again and the ache to be filled burned more than ever.

It was the happiest moment in his life when Arthur’s first finger breached him. His puckered hole welcomed Arthur like a mother hugging her son after he’s come back from his first hunt. The hot walls clung to Arthur’s finger at first, kissing his skin and saying hello, but they soon gave way and invited more in. In a few short moments, Merlin was shoving himself greedily back onto Arthur’s cock.

“Oh, _oh_ , Arthur, fuck—”

Arthur put his hand over Merlin’s mouth to muffle him. “The whole village will hear you,” he warned. Merlin nodded and Arthur moved his hand away. He pressed his face into Merlin’s neck and wrapped an arm around Merlin’s waist, holding him more from the need to be closer more than anything.

Their skin was slick with sweat and the slide of it was sweet. Arthur was long and thick and hot and filling and Merlin sobbed with joy at the perfection of it all. He never wanted this moment to end.

The need to cry out became too much to bear. In a stroke of brilliance, Merlin created the magical barrier around the house, ensuring it was soundproof as well. They were in their own little oasis.

He told Arthur this just before screaming, “ _Fuck_ , yes Arthur, harder, give it to me harder, hurt me, _hurt me!_ ”

Arthur moaned. “Oh God Merlin, you’re a filthy little minx, aren’t you?” He pounded faster into Merlin, as fast as his hips would go. He felt unhinged, and imagined he looked rather animalistic, bent over and fucking into Merlin from behind. No, that wouldn’t do. He straightened his back so that their bodies, joined together, resembled and “h”, and from this position he could thrust even quicker, could place his hands on Merlin’s arse and go harder, deeper.

Merlin was falling apart beneath him. “Oh yeah Arthur, just like that, just like— _fuck_ —touch me, please, _please_ Arthur, touch—oh!”

One stroke was all it took for Merlin to come crashing over the edge of bliss for the second time that night. Arthur wasn’t far behind, breathing, “Christ, look at you, look at the you _milking_ me, Merlin, just drinking me up, you’re beautiful, so fucking beautiful.” Then they collapsed in an unceremonious heap of sweat and come.

They were both completely knackered, and as soon as their bodies stopped shaking from the thrum of excitement, they were fast asleep.

  


Coincidentally, they awoke at the same time. As soon as Merlin opened his eyes and gasped, Arthur was up and sprang out of the bed. His hair was wild and bed-rumpled, his eyes wide, and he had come dried on various body parts from having slept in practically a pool of it.

“Shit,” Arthur swore when he took in Merlin’s similarly debauched state. “We— _shit_.”

Merlin blushed from the tips of his ears to his toes as he too recalled the past night. He’d never once gave thought to the idea of being tied up and fucked, but once Arthur had said he wanted to...apparently there was a lot Merlin hadn’t known about himself. He certainly hadn’t thought he’d be such a screamer, but there it was. Hopefully it was the winter cherry that had done it.

Merlin stared with half-lidded eyes at the panicking Arthur. He took in the night’s mess on the muscular body, noticed how it matched his own—though on a much thinner frame—and drank up every stunning detail about Arthur before he could cover it up again. In his deep study, he began to get hard again.

“Fuck, Merlin, don’t...” Arthur ran a hand through his hair and swallowed thickly, watching Merlin’s cock stiffen.

“I can’t help it,” Merlin said in a small voice. Too much screaming the night before. “I’m attracted to you. You’ve known I was since you caught me touching myself, haven’t you?” He was too fucked and spent to beat around the bush now.

Arthur groaned and squeezed painfully the shaft of his own dick, as if that would stop the inevitable arousal. He looked down at the waifish man in the bed heatedly. “Yes.”

“And last night...you said you wanted me too. Since you first laid eyes on me.”

Arthur bit his lip before conceding. “That’s right.”

Merlin moved his hand to his cock and stroked lazily. “Why didn’t you, before? If you wanted to.”

Arthur ached to accept Merlin’s invitation. “God, I really did want to. That morning I wanted to drip mango juice on your arse and lick it up before fucking you right there on the table.” Merlin’s breath hitched at the dirty confession and he filed that mental note away for later use. His cock twitched and he tugged a little harder to take off the edge.

“Well, why didn’t you?”

“I can’t fall in love with you, Merlin.”

Merlin froze mid-stroke and slowly, calmly, raised himself to sit up. His arse was sore and aching. “I didn’t expect you to,” Merlin lied. “I know what winter cherry does. I know it was just...just a one-time thing.”

But Arthur shook his head. “I’ve felt this way a while, Merlin. It’s just—” Arthur stomped his foot angrily. “Goddammit!”

Merlin pursed his lips and stood. His legs were weak and shaky, but he walked solidly to where Arthur fretted by the door. “What is it?” he asked, looking into his eyes. “What can’t you say?”

“Saying it will make it worse.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “I’m a big boy, Arthur. I can handle it.”

Arthur offered a small smile and took a deep breath before continuing. “I can’t love you because—because I plan to leave you. I’m not staying on this island forever.”

Merlin frowned and bit his lip. He wished so much to raise his hand and hold Arthur’s cheek, to kiss away the lines of worry on Arthur’s forehead. Instead he said gently, “Arthur. I think, perhaps, you ought to get used to the idea that you won’t be able to leave.”

“Are you planning on keeping me captive?”

Merlin knew that by “you” he really meant “the others.” Merlin would never do anything against Arthur’s will, and Arthur was well aware of the fact.

“No. As Morgana said, they just wanted to keep you in a position that was safe until they trust you enough to be one of us. The reason I say you won’t be able to leave is because nobody ever has.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nobody has ever left the island. Before you, nobody came here either. There was some talk about why, but that’s council business. Morgana would know more about it than me.”

Arthur began to panic. “So you’re saying this is like, what, the Bermuda Triangle?” Merlin just tilted his head, the reference lost on him. “Well, shit. _Shit_. That would explain the fog and why this island isn’t on a map. But...my father. My mates. I’ll never...fuck.”

Now Merlin did caress Arthur’s cheek. “I’m sorry, Arthur.”

Arthur grabbed Merlin’s wrist. “No,” he said firmly. “I _will_ get off this island. I’ll get back home. I’ll quit the stupid company and sell, I don’t know, hats. I’ll be a hat salesman. Whatever I do, I won’t sail again, that’s for sure.” His grip tightened with each declaration and Merlin’s pulse beat quick against Arthur’s thumb.

“Arthur?” The light in Arthur’s eyes was wild and Merlin longed to soothe him. But Arthur was stating every remark so close to Merlin’s face he could feel the breath ghost over his skin. And Arthur’s hold was beginning to remind him on Arthur’s hand around his throat last night... “Arthur, you need to calm down.”

As if slapped across the the face, Arthur came back to himself. His eyes returned to their normal width and he realised how close he was to Merlin, how mental he must look.

Their foreheads grazed and at the slight touch, Arthur let himself get lost in Merlin. He breathed in the earthy scent again, watched charcoal eyelashes scrape the air, and stared into stormy blue eyes until he found himself closing the distance. Merlin was so close; he’d never been this close to anyone, and now, in a rather backwards way of doing things, they were going to kiss after they’d shagged each others brains out.

Arthur jumped away before their lips could touch. “I can’t,” he repeated. “No. I’m not the one for you, Merlin. I told you I wouldn’t meddle in your affairs but I’ll go to any extreme to make sure we don’t fall in love.”

Merlin grit his teeth, forcing himself to hold back the _It’s too late!_ and simply bit out, “Fine. Get out then. I’ll just have a wank and _not_ think of you!”

Arthur froze but composed himself long enough to walk out with his dignity. As an afterthought, Merlin ripped the sheets from the bed and threw them out after him.

“You’re washing those by the way!” he shouted.

  


Needless to say, Arthur was never allowed to cook again. Merlin didn’t like him helping collect herbs but Arthur assured him that after _that_ incident he’d taken to studying minute differences more closely. Now the sun-haired man wouldn’t even touch winter cherry.

Days usually consisted of Merlin waking up and staying in bed until his erection flagged, not wanting to bring any relief because he knew the first thing he’d think of was Arthur. Breakfast, a walk about the village attending patients, or a trip to the market, a few moments spent tending the herb garden behind Merlin’s hut, then lunch before moving on to more mundane things.

Though Arthur had to do the laundry, Merlin had to accompany him everywhere. Merlin had to walk with Arthur to carry water from the river every day. Arthur, likewise, had to be present when Merlin went to the waterfall to bathe. They were constantly put in situations that had Merlin secretly wishing Arthur would think of an excuse to slip winter cherry into their meal again.

They’d slipped back into their old roles of master and servant, even engaging in friendly banter and joking, but at the start and end of the day there was always a thick tension between them. Both wanted so much more than smiles and empty insults, but Arthur was adamant and stubborn and Merlin was not going to be the first to give in. Arthur would see there was no way off the island. Let him try to find a way. Let him. And then he’d come crawling back to Merlin in defeat.

Arthur had been under Merlin’s care nearly three moons when Morgana came rushing into the hut one late morning.

“Merlin, Merlin!” She ran in, panting, eyes wide with panic. “Come quick, it’s Mordred. He’s—He’s—Come on!”

Merlin and Arthur looked at each other briefly before getting up to run after her. They followed Morgana to one of the bridges that spanned the cliffs, where a crowd was gathering. Merlin pushed his way to the front, dreading what he somehow already knew he might see.

Sure enough, there was Mordred hanging perilously from the bridge, causing the whole structure to sway dangerously hundreds of yards above the roaring rapids below.

“Why isn’t anybody helping him?” Arthur asked quietly beside him. Only Merlin heard, as Arthur intended.

“They don’t know how,” Merlin replied.

“Isn’t there something you can do? A spell, anything?”

Merlin bit his lip, racking his brain for something. “I can’t...no.”

“What if he falls?”

Merlin didn’t want to think about that. He squeezed his eyes shut and willed the image away. “He won’t. Mordred is strong. He’ll pull himself back up eventually.”

“Not with the way that bridge is swinging,” Arthur said doubtfully.

Morgana reappeared and took hold of Merlin’s arm painfully. There were tears in her eyes. “Merlin, please. You have to do something. _Please_.”

In all their years of friendship, Morgana had never begged. She had cried, of course, the time when she fell from a tree and broke her arm, or when she swam too far out and nearly drowned. But she never, ever begged. Her personality was too headstrong and confident. Begging was beneath her.

Merlin must have looked just as shocked as he felt because suddenly Arthur put a reassuring hand on Morgana’s shoulder and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll save him.” He then preceded to _rush forward onto the bridge without a second thought._

“Arthur—!” Merlin stopped himself from crying out any more. Not only would that give away his utter terror of the bridge, but also his inappropriate feelings toward the man who was supposed to be his slave. Still, Arthur threw a quick glance behind him and gave Merlin a nearly invisible smile. Merlin felt his stomach flip.

Merlin resented Morgana for a moment. _Now both of the men we love are going to die,_ he thought bitterly. But Arthur was making his way onto the bridge with dexterous strides, shifting his weight with impossible expertise to navigate the swaying structure, until finally he reached where Mordred was hanging with sweaty hands.

“Arthur!” Mordred exclaimed. “I’ve never been happier to see anyone in my entire life.”

“How’d you manage this, then?” Arthur asked casually as he carefully bent down to offer Mordred a hand.

Mordred loosened and tightened his grip on the rope. “Was carrying something and sort of lost my footing. Here, I’ll just—oh, no that won’t do. Shit.”

“Here, just swing and take my hand.” Arthur placed one foot behind him for leverage and held out his hand.

Mordred eyed the hand longingly then cast a look behind him. His face paled. “Fuck, that’s a long way down.”

“Don’t look down. Just grab on.”

“My hands are pretty slippery...”

“I’ll hold your wrist then, dammit, but _take my hand_.”

Gathering all his courage, Mordred shifted his weight and grabbed hold of Arthur’s hand. The grip was firm and strong and as soon as their hands locked Arthur pulled him up. Mordred helped by swinging his legs up over the side so he landed flat on the bridge.

The crowd didn’t cheer just yet. The bridge was tilting dangerously from the encounter and both men held onto the wooden planks for dear life. Everyone held their breath as gravity eventually stilled the bridge and they could stand firmly. Only when they returned to solid ground did cries of victory cut the tense silence.

Morgana rushed to Mordred and buried her face in his chest, wrapping him in a death hug. He looked stunned by her sudden displays of affection at first, but then returned the embrace and whispered reassurances in her ear. All around them Mordred’s fellow warriors pat his shoulder or ruffled his hair.

Merlin held back the urge to run to Arthur and hold him tight as if he never wanted to let him go. He let everyone else push past him as they went to surround Mordred, Arthur, and Morgana, content to be in the background for the moment. Nobody could know how close he’d been to tears just a few seconds prior.

So there was crowd blocking his view when a collective gasp went up. Merlin perched on the tips of his toes to see, and gasped himself when he caught a glimpse of the scene. Morgana had extricated herself from Mordred long enough to face Arthur and raise her index, middle, and ring fingers. A few silent, painfully tense seconds passed before Mordred raised his hand in the same gesture. Slowly, the rest of the crowd followed their example. Soon, only Merlin was left on the edge of the circle staring in open shock at the display.

Half the village was giving Arthur the highest compliment one could receive: the sign of respect.

  


It was inevitable that Cornelius would pay a visit to Merlin’s house later that day. The village leader walked into the hut and looked around in disdain before addressing Merlin, who had stood at attention as soon as Cornelius’s hawk-like nose made its first appearance.

“Cornelius,” he greeted.

“Merlin.”

“I assume you’re here because of Arthur.”

Arthur looked up from drying the plates they’d just used for lunch. Cornelius nodded. “I am indeed.” He walked over to the sun-haired man and extended a hand. “Congratulations, outsi—Arthur. Quite the hero, I’ve heard.”

Arthur dropped the cloth and accepted the hand warily. “So it seems. I was only doing what others failed to.”

Merlin grit his teeth but said nothing. If Arthur wanted to push his luck, it was on him, not Merlin.

“Well, I wouldn’t put it quite like that, but you did appear to have...faster reflexes than others. Anyways,” Cornelius stepped back and looked about the medical hut again, as if admiring a child’s first attempt at crafting a bow and finding it endearingly wrong, “I’m here to extend my thanks on behalf of the village, Mordred most especially, and inform you of your new...liberties.”

“I’m free?” Arthur perked up.

“Not quite.” Arthur’s face fell and he immediately turned sour. “But we are letting you go about the village without Merlin’s supervision. If you attempt to leave the village...well, try not to attempt to leave the village.” Cornelius’s warm smile was anything but. It was toothy and wicked and sent a shiver down Merlin’s spine even if it wasn’t directed at him.

“How kind of you,” Arthur deadpanned.

“I thought so myself.”

“When do you suppose I will be completely free to do as I wish?”

“I should think after a year. That _is_ what’s been agreed upon, hasn’t it, Merlin?”

Cornelius’s sudden attention on him took Merlin by surprise. “Yes. I was hoping to speak with you about that actually.” Merlin stepped forward and quickly ran over his speech in his head once more. “You see, it’s quite troublesome for me to escort him everywhere, though allowing him to roam about the village is helpful, there are also other places I think he should be free to—”

“Merlin.”

“Cornelius.”

“You are not of the council, are you?”

“Of course not, but—”

“Which means you have no say in this matter.”

“Alright, but I’m with Arthur all day every day, and I’m able to judge whether or not he can be completely trusted. And it’s not as if he could _go_ anywhere—”

“The outsi—Arthur’s dependability is to be judged by the council, not a lone doctor whose emotions could easily be swayed.”

“I—What?” For a moment Merlin worried Cornelius knew. That he knew everything.

“You’ve been lenient on him since the beginning. You defied me then and you’re defying me now. I will not have you continuing to favour this complete stranger over me, the _leader of the people._ It goes against tradition.”

Merlin went on boldly. “We’ve never _had_ an outsider before. There’s no set precedent for how to deal with this. I see no reason for us to be suspicious of him. And who’s to say he wants to be here anyways? All he thinks of is returning home and being rid of us ‘savages’ for—”

The clapping sound of Merlin’s cheek being smacked echoed through the small home. Merlin held his face in pain and surreptitiously wiped away the stray tear that had fell when Cornelius backhanded him. Arthur swallowed thickly and ground his teeth in anger, but held still.

That resolve nearly shattered when Merlin looked up and two red lines were present on his otherwise lovely cheekbones.

Cornelius raised a threatening finger in Merlin’s face and spoke in a low, warning tone. “You will not refer to your own people as savages again. Do I make myself clear?”

Merlin said nothing, only glared hatefully at the thin, reedy man before him. Merlin’s chest puffed with the effort it took to keep his breathing calm. And Merlin _rarely_ got so angry he couldn’t speak.

He felt his magic boiling inside him, threatening to erupt and cause an earthquake, a flash of lightning, or at the very least shatter a plate. Still, he remained silent and took a moment to regain his composure. Cornelius’s expression flickered for a moment as he looked as Merlin’s clenched fists, imagining the damage Merlin could do with just a few words and a flick of his wrist, but he quickly recovered his mask of order.

“Do I, Merlin? Do you understand or must I have someone explain to you more thoroughly?”

Arthur was about to throttle the insufferable man himself. How could Merlin stand there and take this, especially considering how powerful he supposedly was? Arthur never would have let himself be so degraded.

“I understand,” Merlin bit out finally. “I...apologise for speaking out of turn. Of course you know best, Cornelius.”

“Excellent,” Cornelius said much too cheerfully. “Enjoy your new liberties, Arthur, and thank you again for your services. Good day.”

As soon as Cornelius left Arthur shuffled over to Merlin to inspect the wound. “Are you alright? Does it hurt?” He asked, raising a hand to cup Merlin’s cheek.

Merlin turned away and snapped, “I’m fine.” Under his breath, he whispered. When he turned around to face Arthur again, his face was as unblemished as before. “See? Perfectly fine. Just...leave me alone for the rest of the day.” With that, Merlin hurried out of the hut.

  


Merlin didn’t particularly enjoy exercise, of any sort, but sometimes he did appreciate a good run. He didn’t like running on the beach—that was much too difficult and usually the sand was too hot—but he wasn’t against running through the jungle every now and then.

It was a bit like the first day he’d seen Arthur. The sun was high, the animals were content and going about their daily routines, the hard earth was but a dull ache in his feet the longer Merlin ran. Only this time, Merlin wasn’t running _to_ something, he was running _away._

He had a favourite spot he liked to go to when he felt rotten. It was a spot way down the beach where the sand turned to stone and little sea creatures made their homes in the small pools there. Hermit crabs, minnows, snails. Merlin enjoyed watching the miniature worlds and getting lost in the tiny ecosystem that existed as part of the larger one.

When he didn’t observe the sea animals—when he was in a much fouler mood, as he was now—he made waves. From small, ordinary tides he created aquatic dragons roaring sea foam. He conjured mermaids and dolphins and seahorses, then sent them crashing back down, resulting in rippling waves across the ocean.

It always helped to do something big and destructive with his magic when he was angry. He used to make boulders explode. That, however, was loud and caused unwanted attention, so he let loose his magic on something more flexible, more fluid. He could do whatever he wished to the water.

Merlin half expected to turn around and see Arthur behind him. Part of him wished for the bright spot of yellow hair to burst through the vibrant green of the jungle, wished that Arthur had followed him. He had no such luck, as he should have known. Arthur was prohibited to leave the village. Even if he did dare to sneak out it wouldn’t be in broad daylight.

It seemed all thoughts returned to Arthur. Merlin had been able to restrict his wandering mind during the day and let it roam free over Arthur’s every feature at night. But with this sudden display of worry when Cornelius had hurt him, the look of pure anger when he’d seen Merlin wipe away the single tear...Merlin had thought perhaps Arthur was able to finally overcome his feelings, but this afternoon had confirmed everything. Arthur was still just as hopelessly head over heels as Merlin was.

Merlin thrust his hand out and a large gust of wind sent up a colossal wave before it came crashing back down. Arthur was so...so incorrigible! Why couldn’t he see that it was too late, that they’d fallen for each other from the first time they met? Why couldn’t Arthur just see that there was no way home? Surely if he had Merlin, Avalon wouldn’t be _so_ bad.

When the sun was low in the horizon and navigating the dense jungle would be near impossible, Merlin kicked a pebble into one of the small pools and turned to go. He idly wondered how the appearance of the new rock would alter the simple lives of the sea creatures. How wonderful it must be to be a hermit crab or a snail, not having to worry about love and pain and sun-haired beauties.

As soon as Merlin entered his hut, Arthur was in his face. “We need to talk,” he said.

“What could you possibly have to say to me?” _You’ve already made your thoughts painfully clearly_ , Merlin mentally continued.


	3. No Exit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Why it's been abandoned:** Lost interest in the idea.  
>  **Written:** 9 January 2014  
>  **Original idea:** Merlin is trapped in the television. His channel comes on at 3am and stays on for an hour. A witch cursed him after he wronged her and he doesn't know how long he's been in there. Arthur pulls him out.

Arthur only really watched television when he was ill. He would make himself a big cup of tea with lemon, pull the rubbish bin up by the side of his bed for used tissues, and flip through channels until something decent caught his attention. If he wasn’t feeling _too_ bad, he would start up his laptop, but mostly he was too paranoid of sudden sneezing or coughing, and didn’t want to risk germing up the keyboard. So boring telly it is.

The medicine he took messed up his sleeping habits, so it wasn’t uncommon for him to wake up in the middle of the night, throat sore, breathing through one nostril, and terribly miserable. He always turned the telly off before going to sleep, to save electricity, and kept it off even if he knew there was no hope of falling back into sweet, painless slumber. He would simply lay there with his eyes determinedly shut, willing himself to sleep, _sleep_ dammit, if only for the hope that his symptoms would be less when he woke up the next time.

But that night, for some inexplicable reason, Arthur decided, to hell with it, and reached for the remote resting on the opposite pillow to turn the television back on.

The light hurt his eyes at first, and he browsed channels looking practically through just his eyelashes. But they eventually adjusted, and he was able to make out what programmes he was passing.

He only gave them about a two second appraisal; cooking, advert, rerun, old film, advert, advert—

Hmm. What was this? Arthur sat up. The screen was white, completely blank except for a dark figure sitting cross-legged in the centre. The length of their hair suggested it was a male, but the clothes were a bit baggy, so it could have just as easily been a female. Arthur couldn’t tell for certain, because their head was hanging down and he couldn’t see their face due to the distance of the camera. But it was odd. What kind of programme was this? It was just some person sitting in an empty white space, doing nothing.

Arthur’s nose started to drip, so he put down the remote and grabbed a tissue to blow it, tossing it in the bin beside him afterwards. When he looked up at the screen again, the person had moved, uncrossed their legs so they stuck straight out, toes to the side, and was staring straight ahead.

Straight at Arthur.

Arthur shook the idea from his mind. The man—because it was a man, Arthur could determine now—was only looking in the camera. This was probably some weird indie film experimenting with angles and a lack of a soundtrack. Arthur pressed the info button on the remote.

_???_

That was strange. No description? Not even a channel number or name? Not even the duration length? Surely Arthur would have come across this channel before. There were only so many out there.

The man on the screen stood up and walked forward, straight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes it did just end in the middle of a sentence.


	4. Untitled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Why it's been abandoned:** It was too long for the challenge it was originally written for.  
>  **Written:** 19 July 2013  
>  **Original idea:** Merlin's neighbour Arthur has noisy headboard-banging sex every night and it's driving him mad.

Arthur Pendragon was a noisy prat bastard who lived to make Merlin’s life hell.

Every night, every night, while Merlin was on the verge of drifting into dreamland, the banging would begin.

For some inexplicable reason, the layout of their flats was mirrored so that Arthur’s bedroom wall in 4B was shared directly with Merlin’s bedroom wall in 4A.

Merlin really ought to talk to management.

If it were the weekend, Merlin would understand. Arthur was fit and successful and therefore gorgeous as hell. Even Merlin himself had a wank or six to the thought of riding what must surely be a beautiful cock. But Arthur apparently had loud, headboard-banging sex every fucking night and it was driving Merlin mad.

He threw off the duvet and stormed through his flat with every intention of giving Arthur a piece of his mind. Once he was out in the hall, he realised he was just in his pants, but he couldn’t be too bothered about that at the moment. Not when there were prats to be sorted out.

Merlin pounded his fist on the door incessantly until Arthur’s voice came from the other side. “Alright, alright, would you quit already?” And he swung the door open.

His eyebrows were raised in surprise but his twitching lips gave him away. “Merlin? Do you realise what time it is?” His eyes glanced over Merlin’s lack of attire just briefly before returning to look him questioningly in the face.

Merlin was livid. “Do you know what time it is?” was all he could think to reply through clenched teeth.

“Almost three in the morning.”

“Exactly. Again. Almost three in the morning again. So send whatever tart you’re fucking tonight home and let me get some sleep for once!”

“Merlin, for fuck’s sake.” He peered into the hallway to make sure nobody had come out to complain about the noise. “Would you keep your voice down?”

Merlin gaped. “Me? Keep my voice down? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“If you’re going to be so loudly obnoxious, come in and do it, but don’t make a scene in the corridor of all places.”

Merlin huffed and pushed past Arthur into the man’s flat. It was neat. How dare he have the audacity to be clean.

Merlin studied it just a few more seconds before figuring out the way to the bedroom. He started walking towards it.

“Where the hell are you going?” Arthur protested behind him.

“To drag this tart of yours out of bed so I can get some sleep,” Merlin snapped over his shoulder.

Arthur ran up and stepped in his path just as he was reaching out to open the bedroom door.

“Merlin, let’s just talk about this.”

Merlin glared. “I think the time for talking has passed. Talking would have been after a week. It’s been a month.”

Merlin reached out again but Arthur blocked him. “Merlin, please, just listen to me.”

There was no way Merlin could shove the giant wall of muscle that was Arthur’s body out of the way, so he settled for yanking just his arm. It gave Merlin enough leverage to finally twist the knob and push the door open.

“What the fuck.”

There was no one in there.

The wall behind the headboard was marked where the wood had kept slamming into it. On the bed itself were two very obvious knee impressions where Arthur had been kneeling.

“You…on purpose…?” Merlin spun around and looked incredulously at a deflated Arthur. “What the actual fuck, Arthur?”

“That’s what I was trying to say, Merlin.”

“That you’re an arse that gets joy out of depriving me of sleep?”

“No! No, I…” Merlin tapped his foot impatiently. “I thought if you heard, you would…get jealous.”

Merlin froze. Surely he hadn’t heard right. Surely Arthur drop-dead-gorgeous Pendragon hadn’t just admitted to trying to make Merlin jealous with ridiculous amounts of loud, imaginary sex.

Arthur bit his lip, avoided Merlin’s eyes, and blushed of all things, and dammit if it wasn’t the most adorable thing Merlin had ever seen.

“I, um, sort of…like you. Merlin.”

Merlin’s mind was reeling with possibilities because here they were, both practically naked, in Arthur’s bedroom, with some very unresolved sexual tension between them, and all Merlin could think about was climbing Arthur like a tree and shagging his brains out right there and then. But logic won out, because Merlin was actually still quite upset.

“So you pretend to have loud sex every night just to make me jealous instead of approaching me like a normal person?”

Arthur shrugged. “I didn’t think you even knew who I was. You’ve never said anything to me or even looked at me. I didn’t know how else to get your attention.”

“How about a simple ‘hello’ for starters?”

“I thought about it, but…I wouldn’t know what to say after that. I didn’t even know if you were into blokes.” Arthur’s eyes glanced down and a wide grin slowly stretched his face. “But you are.”

Merlin looked down and immediately covered his very evident erection. “Shut up!”

“Do you like me too, Merlin?” Arthur asked hopefully.

It was hard staying angry at such an expression but Merlin could try. “I…I don’t even know you. I mean obviously you’re not terrible to look at, but like you said, I’ve never talked to you so I don’t really—“

“Well, why not?”

“You’re joking, right?” Merlin gestured between the two of them with one hand, keeping his crotch covered with the other. “Look at you and look at me. I didn’t think I even had a chance.”

Arthur’s smile broadened and he crossed the room quickly to stand in front of Merlin. “You definitely have a chance, Merlin. I want you. I’ve wanted you since the day I moved in.”

“That was almost a year ago!”

“Can we make up for lost time, then?” Arthur’s hand came up and cradled Merlin’s face and Merlin gulped but didn’t object to the touch. “If you’re not still angry, that is.”

Angry? Why would Merlin be angry? He had a fit blond with the bluest eyes and the brightest smile in the world standing in front of him asking to go out with him.

“I guess I forgive you,” Merlin said. When did Arthur’s face get so close? He could feel Arthur’s breath on his lips. “Promise not to do it anymore?”

Arthur’s lips were already touching Merlin’s when he answered. “I promise.”


	5. Like Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Why it's been abandoned:** So I did use [part of this for a summer pornathon challenge](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1990743), and I did reply to some comments that I'd finish the larger fic that it came from but I realise now that I don't have tiiiiiiime :( So it's officially up for adoption~  
>  **Written:** 23 October 2013 - 1 April 2014  
>  **Original idea:** arthur only agrees to go to study at the library with his girlfriend so he can wank from across the room with the boy who sits at the other table. merlin goes to do the same thing.

The two tables were probably about ten metres apart altogether. Arthur had never measured. He was just glad that the bookcases that lined either side provided about as much privacy as one could get in a university library (besides, of course, the private study rooms, but those were always occupied by the time he and Vivian got there).

He was also glad that Vivian sat diagonal to him; not directly across, where she’d block his view, and not beside him, where she’d most certainly be able to tell what he was doing.

Arthur was wanking.

But the other bloke was, too. In fact, Arthur was pretty sure it was the other bloke who’d started it. The first time it happened, Arthur had simply been tapping his pencil, waiting for Vivian to give up trying to play the hardworking student so they could go back to his room and fuck. He’d only happened by chance to catch sight of the boy across the room who was surreptitiously palming his crotch under the table. Arthur had abruptly stopped tapping his pencil and stared.

He’d got hard watching him, the boy with dark hair and long eyelashes that seemed to kiss his cheekbones every time he blinked. His face had been tilted down, looking at an open book, so Arthur hadn’t got a good view of his face until he suddenly looked up, straight at Arthur, like he could feel Arthur’s gaze.

The how’s and when’s were a bit blurry now, but that’s how they’d got here. The boy’s girlfriend—Arthur assumed it was his girlfriend, because he’d seen them kiss a few times after leaving the library—also sat diagonal to him, mirroring the position of Arthur and Vivian. It always started with just palming themselves through their jeans, sneaking quick glances over to their respective partners to see how absorbed they were in their work, before the zips came undone. That was always the difficult part, having to synchronise the turning of a page with the quick downward motion to disguise the unfastening of metallic teeth. A cough or a sneeze helped as well.

Arthur used to worry about things like cameras and other people suddenly walking by, but after a while he’d relaxed. It had become a routine, every Thursday, like clockwork. He and Vivian would come to the library around five or so, just two hours before closing, the other boy and his girlfriend would already be here, and by six it had started. After ten minutes of tortuously slow build-up, two minutes of working up the nerve to actually pull a cock out (Arthur’s jeans were usually loose enough that he didn’t have to, but the other boy’s were tight so he couldn’t just jerk himself discreetly, and Arthur wasn’t going to force him to be the only one fully bared) and maybe six more minutes of real wanking, one of them would take the initiative to get up and go to the toilets to finish. Once one got back, the other went. It was a good system, really.

Until Arthur started to think about the boy while fucking Vivian. Then it had got weird.

Looking back on it now, fisting his prick in the uni library while staring at the bloke across the room doing the same, Arthur realised it had probably been a bit weird from the beginning. He hadn’t thought himself ever really attracted to males. Sure he’d stared at a guy’s arse a few times when said guy bent over to pick something up, or caught himself dropping his gaze to someone’s lips, wondering if they’d feel nice pressed against his. He’d also once vocally agreed with a group of female students who were going on about one of the professors being incredibly shaggable. There’d even been a few times when he was watching porn that he’d find himself more fixated on the man’s cock than the cunt it fucked into. But Arthur had never actually thought about having _sex_ with another bloke himself. Now...

Across the room, the dark-haired boy had picked up speed. His plump lips parted just a bit, and Arthur thought if he wasn’t careful, his girlfriend was going to see. Arthur darted a glance to Vivian, checking the status of his own fragile position while also sending a warning. When he looked back, the boy had slowed again, his lips sealed tightly, but Arthur could make out the subtle twisting motion of his wrist as he neared the head of his cock.

He wondered if the boy thumbed the slit like he did, rubbed precome over his shaft to make it glisten. He wondered what it looked like up close, if the musky smell would differ slightly from his own, what it would be like to run his tongue up the underside to the leaking tip.

Arthur’s erection throbbed at that, heat flooding his thighs and pushing him closer. He could feel the tension coiling in his groin, and he let his imagination wander—What if they were alone in the library, if the lights went out and the doors locked and Arthur crawled under the table, taking that lovely cock in his mouth? What if those fingers twisted in his hair, not like Vivian’s when she just lightly pet him, but pulled hard enough to tug on the roots as he sucked the boy’s dick? How much would those perfect lips part then? How far back would his head tilt, exposing that beautiful throat and making his Adam’s apple jut out? Arthur wanted to see this bloke _really_ lose it, wanted to reduce him to shudders and whimpers and moans, wanted to gag on it—

Arthur had never come in the library before. But his imagination had never drifted that far either, so when his orgasm hit him suddenly, forcefully, making him gasp and pulse, Arthur was only ninety percent surprised. The other ten percent thought, _Of course you just came on yourself you fucking pervert, bloody_ look _at him!_

Arthur had somehow managed to get away with disguising his gasp as a sudden cough, but that didn’t fool the dark-haired bloke. His eyes went wide with disbelief, his jaw dropping, and Arthur couldn’t help but think about what it might have been like to come between those lips. Vivian hated swallowing but Arthur didn’t think the boy would mind. Especially if Arthur returned the favour.

Arthur tore his gaze away and looked down to the more pressing situation. Luckily, he hadn’t made too much of a mess. Sometimes he came so hard it would shoot out of his cock like a fucking rocket, but he’d sort of just spilled over this time. As Arthur manoeuvred his pants to wipe himself semi-clean, the boy across the room made his mandatory trip to the toilets, quietly telling his girlfriend he’d be right back. He blushed when his eyes fell on Arthur, which Arthur thought was kind of stupid, because _he_ wasn’t the one who just came in the middle of the library.

Arthur was just about to zip himself back up when Vivian sighed and dropped her biro, rubbing her temples.

“This is _stupid_ ,” she said. “English is stupid.”

“You’re specialising in it,” Arthur pointed out, pulling up his zip a little.

“God knows _why_. It’s not like I can do anything with it.”

Arthur didn’t really know what to say to that. He thought about mentioning she at least had her looks, but figured she might take it the wrong way.

She started closing her books, so Arthur quickly did up his zip completely before closing his own and shoving them into his rucksack.

“What time are you picking me up tomorrow?” she asked as she stood and slung her bag over her shoulder.

“What time do you want me to pick you up?”

“Hmm. Let’s go with seven. Does that work for you?”

_Would you even care if I said it didn’t?_ “Yeah, that works.”

She started walking and Arthur took a few long strides to catch up to her, sliding his arm around her waist when he finally did. He glanced back at the dark-haired boy’s girlfriend, idly wondering how she and him got on. Arthur had only seen quick glimpses of her face, but it hadn’t seemed like she wore that much makeup, not nearly as much as Vivian. Maybe muted red lipstick, but certainly not loads of eyeliner or sparkling lippy. Arthur sighed and focused his attention forward again. Why couldn’t Vivian be a bit more like that? Why was Arthur even dating her in the first place?

They were nearly at the exit when the boy suddenly came out of the loo right by the door. He froze in place for a split second, the same second Arthur’s heart skipped a beat, but then he dashed off, the moment having passed quickly. Arthur fought the urge to look back over his shoulder as they left the building.

**:.:.:.:**

“You know that girl Natalie?”

Arthur glanced around the botanic garden, wondering if Percival was bringing up the name because he saw her.

“Not _here_ , you idiot,” Percival said. “But do you know of her?”

“Not really. Sure, whatever.”

“I have it on good authority that she watches porn.”

Arthur wasn’t sure how to react. Was he supposed to laugh? Say okay?

Leon apparently thought it was hilarious, because he burst into guffaws. “No she doesn’t.”

“I swear it, she does! Her roommate’s boyfriend caught her touching herself to it and everything,” Percival declared.

“Okay...” Arthur finally said. “I’m clearly missing something here.”

“Arthur. She watches _porn_. What girl watches porn? That’s like saying girls fart. It just doesn’t happen.”

Arthur did laugh at that. “Whatever you say, Perce.”

“Hey, I’m not too sure about the farting thing, Percival. One of my sisters used to do it all the time. Smelled just as foul as any bloke’s, too,” Leon said.

Arthur shook his head, chuckling. “Why am I even friends with you two?”

“Don’t look now but your other friend is coming,” Leon said, gesturing over Arthur’s shoulder.

Arthur turned his head and saw Vivian practically storming across the garden. She looked angry.

“I don’t envy you at _all_ at the moment, mate,” Percival said. “Looks like it’s—”

“If you say it’s her time of the month, I swear I’ll punch you in the face,” Arthur snapped.

Percival rolled his eyes. “Jesus, calm down.”

“ _Arthur_ ,” Vivian said as she plopped down next to him. It was more of a whine, actually, said in that tone she usually got when she wanted him to fix everything like magic.

Arthur put his arm over her shoulders. “Alright?”

Her bottom lip jutted forward in a pout, her artificially lengthened eyelashes sweeping upward. Okay, maybe the excessive makeup could be attractive _sometimes_.

“No, Arthur, everything is not alright. I was late to my lecture because I got stuck behind a bunch of slow people. Honestly, slow walkers should be eradicated from the face of the earth—”

“Ooh, big word, eradicated,” Percival muttered. Arthur shot him a glare.

“—and then, when I finally get there, I find out we have to write an essay, which obviously I was unprepared for. The bloke next to me wouldn’t stop tapping his pencil, and _then_ , because the universe clearly hates me, my fucking _uterus_ had to start bleeding in the middle of it.” She put her head on Arthur’s shoulder with a little huff, ending her rant as she usually did with an unspoken _You’ll make everything better, won’t you, Arthur?_

Arthur sighed and rubbed her shoulder. Leon and Percival were smirking, Percival more so, and Arthur glared at them again. He wished Vivian wasn’t there so he could tell them that this was just her, that not all girls were like this. Vivian was just...Vivian. He bet that dark-haired bloke from the library never had to deal with anything like this. _His_ girlfriend was probably all kinds of cool. They were probably one of those nerdy couples that played video games together. She probably even sucked his cock while he played Bioshock or something. Arthur would do that for him.

_Wait, what?_

Right, back to the situation at hand. Arthur cleared his head of the library bloke and looked back down to Vivian.

“We can go get ice cream or something,” he suggested.

She perked up immediately. “Ohmygod, _yes_! Ice cream sounds amazing right now.”

Arthur got to his feet, Vivian standing with him. “Great. I’ll see you lot later. If you make any progress on that Natalie story, be sure to let me know.”

Leon laughed but Percival feigned seriousness, giving Arthur a mock salute. “I shall do my best to recover more details,” he said.

Arthur snorted as he and Vivian started leaving the garden.

“What Natalie story?” Vivian leaned in and whispered once they’d gone.

Arthur waved it off. “It’s nothing. Just something stupid they were talking about.”

Vivian arched a perfectly shaped brow. Arthur wasn’t sure if that was a signal to continue or just a general expression of _Oh really?_

Arthur played it safe and continued. “They, um. Didn’t think girls watch porn. And apparently Natalie does, so they were talking about it. It’s stupid, like I said.”

Vivian laughed, one of her high-pitched musical-sounding trills that made her eyes squeeze shut and her nose wrinkle in that cute little way of hers. Arthur smiled and was glad she was able to find it funny.

“Just because we don’t walk around advertising it doesn’t mean we don’t _do_ it,” she said.

“Well, yeah, _I_ know that. Those idiots don’t.”

“Which is precisely why they don’t have girlfriends,” Vivian said, wrapping an arm around his waist.

Arthur continued smiling back at her another moment before facing forward again. Sometimes he thought Perce and Leon were fine with not having girlfriends, at least for right now. They seemed content to hook up with girls at parties and let that be the end of it.

Arthur envied them occasionally. Vivian could be sort of annoying, sure, but she was _so_ fit, and great in bed, and they got on well most of the time...Okay, half the time. There’d always been a nagging sensation in Arthur’s mind going _What’s the point?_ because he certainly didn’t love her or anything remarkably special like that. But it wasn’t a _bad_ thing they had together.

It was just that his heart didn’t skip whenever he saw her, he didn’t get butterflies in his stomach at the mention of her name, he didn’t smile like a besotted idiot when he looked in her eyes. There’d always been something missing; it just hadn’t started bothering him until recently.

“Chocolate, right?” Arthur asked her when they reached the ice cream shop. She nodded and Arthur ordered chocolate ice cream for the both of them.

“So,” he said, nudging her foot under the table once they’d sat down, “what kind of porn do _you_ watch?”

Vivian giggled. “Why would I need to watch when I have a perfectly capable boyfriend?”

Arthur shrugged. She had a point there. He hadn’t been to any porn sites since they’d started seeing each other.

“Well, when I _did_ watch, it wasn’t anything terribly exciting. Just two people fucking, you know?” Vivian said.

“Yeah, pretty much the same for me. Guess we aren’t very adventurous,” Arthur remarked with a grin before licking his ice cream.

Vivian laughed again. “The couple that porns together, stays together,” she sang.

Arthur rolled his eyes and chuckled. He couldn’t even imagine watching porn with Vivian. Even if they did share the same taste in videos, they probably didn’t share the same taste in actors.

Arthur’s ice cream had started melting a bit so he took a bite to save it. He was half done by now but Vivian was still slowly going at it, her pink tongue tinged chocolatey brown as it licked up the cold dessert. It made Arthur’s blood pump a little faster, and when she looked up through her eyelashes at him, he saw she knew exactly what she was doing. She grinned.

“Tease,” he said lightly, nudging her foot under the table again. She laughed and gave a broad, slow lick, swirling around the top. “Why must you do this when you know we can’t do anything for the whole week?”

“Aw, poor Arthur,” she said, patting his head. “It must be so hard for you, not having to endure cramps and mood swings.”

“It _is_ hard,” Arthur muttered. “That’s the problem.”

Vivian snickered and went back to her ice cream, thankfully going at it less sexually. “Well, as we were just discussing earlier, there’s always porn.”

Arthur grunted. He was nearing the end of his ice cream.

“I do hope I didn’t utterly fail that essay, though,” she said, suddenly changing topic. “Oh God, I just know I failed it.”

“You didn’t fail it,” Arthur sighed. “You always say that, but you always end up doing well.”

“Don’t jinx it!”

Arthur snorted.

“Anyway, it certainly didn’t help that the professor wore this white button-down without his tie today. He had the first two buttons undone and everything. Totally distracting, and that’s not even bringing the boy with the pencil-tapping addiction into it.”

“Oh that’s right, you have the one everybody keeps saying is so shaggable,” Arthur said. “The Gwaine fellow. Yeah, I can see how you might have a bit of trouble concentrating.”

A bit too hairy for Arthur’s tastes, but he could easily imagine how an undone shirt might cause a few hitched breaths. It was bad enough the man insisted students call him by his first name because he wanted them to feel ‘comfortable’ with him.

“Exactly!” Vivian exclaimed. “God, all that stupidly gorgeous hair, and that ridiculously wide smile...”

Arthur chuckled. Should he start feeling jealous? “Yeah, I saw him walking around a few times. It’s like his trousers are screaming, ‘Hey, look at my arse, don’t you want to touch it?’” Arthur said, finishing off his ice cream. “Wouldn’t be surprised if he got involved with more than a handful of students, to be honest.”

He licked his lips and wiped his chin with the back of his hand, then looked up at Vivian. She was staring at him with a dropped jaw and a furrowed brow.

“What?”

Vivian closed her gaping mouth, then tilted her head a bit. “Do _you_ think he’s attractive?”

_Oh, fuck_.

“You said it yourself, he’s an attractive guy,” Arthur replied. Ugh, he really wanted to get out of here now. Why did he have to go and say something stupid like that?

“Yeah, but I’m—” She stopped herself, her lips puckering a bit in a downward pout before she started over, trying again. “I mean you don’t actually think—You wouldn’t—It’s just that this isn’t the first time, you’ve said—Arthur, are you...are you bi?”

Arthur suddenly lost the ability to breathe, and then to swallow. He forced the accumulated saliva down his throat, lowering his eyes to the table.

He probably was. He’d been wanking with the library bloke for months, had been thinking at least somewhat about other guys long before then. He’d even already sort of come to terms with it, in some subconscious part of his mind that knew what was going on. He just hadn’t put a name to it.

Arthur shrugged, still avoiding Vivian’s eyes. “I haven’t done anything with anyone, but like. I mean. Yeah.”

_Holy shit, did I just come out? Is that what just happened there? What the fuck?_

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” Shit, she was angry again.

Arthur shrugged again, finally raising his gaze to look at her. “You never asked.”

She gaped at him, like she couldn’t believe he’d just said that. Arthur thought it was a decent enough reason. He _would_ have said something if she’d asked. It wasn’t like he was particularly ashamed or scared. Okay, maybe a little scared, but only so scared that he wouldn’t volunteer the information without being prompted first.

“And your friends?” she pressed. “Do they know?”

“No. They’ve never asked, either. Nobody’s ever asked.”

“Well because I didn’t even _think_ that you...The two just don’t go together in my mind!”

“Uh, sorry? I didn’t think it was a big deal since I’m with you, anyway. It’s not like I’m going off to have sex with some bloke behind your back.” Well, not technically. What he was really doing was more like watching live porn. Yeah, that was it.

“Still,” she said, frowning. “You should’ve been honest with me. I feel like I don’t even know you.”

“What does that even mean? We’ve been dating almost a year, of course you know me.”

Arthur realised at the same time Vivian did that he’d raised his voice bit. She sighed and stood up. “Let’s go. I don’t wanna talk here,” she said.

Arthur clenched his jaw and got to his feet, following Vivian out of the shop and back onto the pavement. She crossed her arms over her chest, clearly not wanting to be touched by him _now_.

“ _Vivian_ ,” Arthur said, catching up to her. “I get that you’re upset I didn’t tell you, but come on. It doesn’t change anything.”

“Yes, Arthur, it does,” she snapped. “I can’t even...can’t even look at you the same knowing you think about sucking cock.”

Arthur felt a sudden ache in his chest and frowned. “Okay, well, that’s a bit homophobic.”

Vivian made a noise of exasperated frustration. “ _No_ , it’s not like that. It’s like...You’re my _boyfriend_ , yeah? How am I supposed to wrap my head around this? It’s too fucking weird.”

“So, what, you’re breaking up with me? Is that it?”

“God, I really feel like I should. But I dunno, maybe that’s just my period talking. I don’t wanna make any hasty decisions just because I’m so fucking angry right now.”

“Viv, come on, I still really like you,” Arthur said, risking an arm over her shoulder. “We’re still good together, aren’t we?”

Viv looked at him from the corner of her eye. “That’s it? You just ‘really like’ me?”

Oh Jesus, did she want him to say he loved her? Arthur didn’t think he could.

“Well, I—”

“Why are you even with me, Arthur?”

Arthur almost laughed. As if he had a fucking clue.

“You’re beautiful,” Arthur said. Vivian raised a brow. “And I like being with you. You’re like a really good mate I can have sex with. And I mean. It works, yeah?”

Arthur mentally groaned. What the fuck had he even just said?

Vivian sighed and looked away. “You are so fucking lucky I feel the same way, otherwise you’d be pushed in front of a bus by now.”

Arthur swallowed.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Channel 5](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2623121) by [vortexofdeduction](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vortexofdeduction/pseuds/vortexofdeduction)




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